Hearts of Darkness
by TreeHugger
Summary: sequel to Whisper of Things to Come. This is undergoing some revisions. Chapters 1 through 3 are finished. 28 years after Egla Ash is captured and taken to Dol Guldur he returns to exact his revenge on Legolas.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own them (only the OC's) or make any money from them. They are the property of the Tolkien Estate.  
  
Author's Note: This is being rewritten to bring it into synch with my other stories. No major plot lines will be changed. Some of my characters have complained that they got rather short shrift in these stories and they are quite right. I am attempting to rectify that.  
  
Thanks to al for beta-ing this old stuff! Stars shine on you, mellon-nin!  
  
Recap - Legolas had been captured by Orcs and tortured. He is befriended by one of them, Egla Ash, who helps to plan his rescue with a Ranger named Aragorn. One year after Legolas' rescue, Egla Ash is captured by the very Orcs he had lived with and taken to Dol Guldur. Legolas and Aragorn had tried to rescue him before he disappeared into that vile tower, but were unsuccessful. This story takes place 28 years later.  
  
Chapter 1- Prisoner of the Elves  
  
  
  
3017 TA  
  
The creature was ugly; no one was denying that. It stood quietly at the end of the rope held by the Ranger whose grim face showed the dislike he felt for his captive. Its head seemed unusually large for its long skinny neck; the long, clever fingers were constantly in motion, the huge round, pale eyes staring at the faces of the Elves before it.  
  
"Ha deleb glamog," {It is as horrible as an Orc} one of the Elves laughed quietly to his nearest companion.  
  
"Then Prince Legolas should like it right well," the other whispered, his slim hand near his mouth so the words didn't fall on the wrong ears.  
  
Bright eyes turned to where Legolas stood greeting the Ranger and the gray robed Istari that accompanied him. The Man clasped hands warmly with the Elf Prince. They had been friends for the last twenty-eight years, ever since this Ranger had helped to rescue Legolas from a group of Orcs residing beneath Emyn Mor Esgal. Then the tall Wizard embraced him, saying a few quiet words, the Istari's blue eyes twinkling as he regarded the Prince  
  
"Is that the creature, Mithrandir?" Legolas asked as he studied the thing that gazed now upon him. He felt a rush of pity for the wretched being, its body so thin and wasted.  
  
"Yes, this is Gollum. He is going to be your . . . guest for a time. Aren't you, Gollum?"  
  
The creature looked up when Wizard called him. That was not his true name, but it was what they called him now. Though the tall Istari stared down at him with some compassion, Gollum hissed at him.  
  
"Stay with the Elveses, my precious." He moaned then, long fingers twining and knitting together. "Away from nasty Ranger, and nasty Wizard," he muttered, glaring now at the Man. "We hates them, we does! We hates them, my precious!"  
  
"Gladly do I hand him over to your father, Legolas," Aragorn said, scowling at Gollum. "Beware, my friend. He bites. . .and scratches. And kicks."  
  
"Nasty Ranger!"  
  
"I will be glad to be rid of your company as well, Gollum," Aragorn said with a tight smile. "Come, Legolas. Accompany us to your father. The sooner I am rid of him the better." He yanked on the rope that was tied about the skinny neck, dragging a reluctant captive behind him.  
  
"Is that really necessary, Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly as Gollum twined his long fingers about the rope, tugging at it and muttering under his breath.  
  
The Ranger turned to gaze at the Elf in surprise.  
  
"Yes, Legolas. I fear that it is necessary. Do not let his appearance fool you. He is a wily creature, and not easily caught. As you well know, my friend, it has taken far too long to capture him, and I will not let him escape me, even if it seems that my methods are cruel."  
  
Legolas nodded. He did know just how easily the creature had eluded them. For eight years Aragorn and Gandalf had searched for him, following his trail through the vales of Anduin, through Mirkwood, ranging over most of Rhovanion in that time. The trail had lead to the very border of Mordor itself. When they had hunted him in Mirkwood, Legolas had joined them, except when they traveled to the far reaches of the forest. The Elves of Gladaran Thamas avoided the part of Mirkwood that lay south of the Old Forest Road unless it was absolutely necessary to travel there. Always the elusive creature had evaded them with stealth and cunning. Now that he was captured, they would take no chances of his gaining his freedom and fleeing them again.  
  
Gollum hissed and muttered to himself, and to his "precious". He complained about the Ranger and the Wizard; he complained about the Elves with their bright eyes and fair faces. He trusted no one, and Legolas could not blame him for that. It was obvious that the creature had lived a life of depravity and anguish.  
  
"Come then," the prince of Mirkwood said quietly, with a last pitying look at the captive. "I will take you to my father."  
  
  
  
King Thranduil received his visitors in a small private garden hedged in by dark leaved shrubbery. The soft sound of water splashing in a carved fountain mingled pleasantly with the nighttime calls of the birds and soft Elvish voices. The king was seated in a chair by a small table with delicately carved legs, the chill autumn moonlight playing on his long golden locks crowned with colorful autumn leaves.  
  
"Greetings, Mithrandir," he said, rising gracefully to greet the Wizard. "Dunadan. It is good to see you again. You have both been strangers for far too long. Come and join me," he gestured to the small table set with wine glasses and plates, a basket of fresh bread, a plate bearing apples and grapes, and a bottle of wine. Word of their arrival had obviously preceded them.  
  
Thranduil's eyes rested on Gollum, a look of disgust playing across his handsome face.  
  
"I see that you have finally managed to capture it. Lindir, take this creature to the dungeons."  
  
A young Silvan Elf with a long spill of dark hair moved to take the rope from Aragorn, his green eyes filling with wonder as he gazed at Gollum.  
  
"Nay, Thranduil," Gandalf said, stepping forward. "He needs no darkness. His thoughts will only turn to more mischief and evil. Though he likes not the sun, and little tolerates the moon, he needs to be in the open air. Perhaps even one such as he may heal if the cure is good."  
  
"I have little hope for this one, Mithrandir," Thranduil countered, looking down at the creature that was still muttering and fretting with the rope. "He has a foul look about him."  
  
"Not all things that look foul are, Father," Legolas said suddenly, his blue eyes hard. "Some times a gentle and good soul can rest behind a vile countenance."  
  
Thranduil met his son's gaze calmly. This was a subject not often mentioned. It was a wound that would not heal despite the passing of the years. The Wood Elf king sighed slightly, and turned to regard the Wizard.  
  
"What do you suggest we do with him, Mithrandir?" he asked quietly, pouring wine into a glass and handing it to the Wizard.  
  
"He will need to be watched constantly, Thranduil. Make no mistake," the Istari said earnestly, his eyes traveling to the Legolas' face. The Elf's blue eyes were bitter and filled with sadness. "Treat him with all kindness. He wasn't always like this you know. Let him live in the air as much as is possible. Feed him well for he always seems hungry."  
  
"Hungry, precious. Always hungry. Never enough food for us."  
  
Thranduil started slightly at the sound of the hissing voice.  
  
"Take him away and feed him then. Lindir, have some of the others join you. We want no mishaps." The King turned to Mithrandir and the Ranger. "The creature will be guarded well, never fear."  
  
Legolas moved to take the rope from Aragorn before Lindir could.  
  
"I will go with you," the prince said quietly. He looked to the Ranger. "I will join you later, Aragorn." He smiled slightly, then turned and led the shuffling creature away.  
  
"You must forgive my son, Mithrandir, Dunadan," Thranduil said in a low voice as they seated themselves at the table. "He is always melancholy at this time of the year and does not make the best company. I have learned to leave him to himself at these times." He shrugged apologetically, taking a sip of wine, blue eyes distant.  
  
"There is no need to apologize, Thranduil," Gandalf said in an equally quiet tone. "We understand."  
  
While the Istari and the Elf King spoke softly to one another, Aragorn turned to glance the way that Legolas and the others had gone. He knew what the prince was thinking. He remembered that time twenty-eight years ago when Egla Ash, the Orc that had befriended Legolas, was captured by his own kind and taken prisoner in Dol Guldur. He and Legolas had tried to free him, even if it meant they must take his life, but they had failed. Legolas felt this most keenly, and it seemed the pain still lingered.  
  
Then Man sighed and sipped his wine, its fruity, flowery taste filling his mouth. All about him the cool night air was filled with tranquil sounds: water gurgling, night birds calling, the last of the crickets fiddling their slow songs. Somewhere in the distance the sound of a lovely voice drifted upward.  
  
"Lasta meleth-nin, an i aerlinn ned i elenath, I ri ned menel, sila celebren nain ned Elbereth." {Listen my love, to the song of the stars, The crown of heaven, shining silver tears of Elbereth.}  
  
Music was as much a part of the Elvish soul as the stars themselves. Songs were always in the air when Elves were about.  
  
Aragorn let the words wash over him. He felt himself relax for the first time since he had come upon Gollum in the Dead Marshes. The creature was indeed maddening. He knew he had not been as gentle with him as he should have been. He let his own frustration and , yes, disgust show too often. Gollum would never be 'cured' under his care. He wondered if anyone could cure the beast from the darkness that ate away at his soul. Perhaps the Wood Elves could. Thranduil would pick his guards with care. Some of the Elves would be repulsed by his looks and manners, so it would take special guards indeed to administer the 'cure' that Gandalf believed could be gotten here. Legolas would be such a one. His gentle, caring soul would be good for the dark being. Aragorn could think of a few others he knew that would be just the sort of 'guard' Gandalf wanted.  
  
If it had been up to the Ranger, Gollum could be thrown into Thranduil's deepest, darkest dungeon. He would be glad to do it personally.  
  
~But, ~ he thought with a rueful smile, ~perhaps I am not the best one to pass sentence upon him. I hate him as much as he hates me. He would see me thrown into darkness as well I think. ~  
  
He raised his glass to his lips, draining the sweet liquid. A slight smile tugged at his lips before he turned to join the conversation between the Wizard and the King.  
  
  
  
Legolas watched as Gollum ate, tearing at the roasted meat with his teeth. The creature talked and whispered to himself the entire time, words only half heard around the chewing.  
  
"Bright eyes, starry glow, my precious."  
  
Legolas and Lindir looked at one another and shrugged. They had no idea what he was speaking of, or to whom. Gollum snatched the food from them as if he feared it would be denied him otherwise, his fingers wrapping about it protectively.  
  
"The starry glow hurts our eyes, it does, my precious," he muttered around a mouthful of meat.  
  
"The stars aren't that bright," Lindir murmured, seemingly unable to take his eyes away from Gollum.  
  
"Not the stars," Gollum grumped at him. "Elveses, my precious, they shine. So bright they are. Like stars."  
  
"Oh," Lindir giggled. He was a young Elf, born after the Battle of the Five Armies. Legolas liked his lightheartedness, and found him to be an amusing companion. He was always laughing and jesting, just what the prince needed right now.  
  
Gollum looked up at the sound of the laughter, and blinked his large eyes.  
  
"It laughs at us, my preciousss. But we don't care as long as it feeds us," he croaked to himself, snatching more food from Lindir's slender fingers.  
  
"I think he might eat your fingers if you get too close, young one," a stern voice behind them said.  
  
They turned to see Tanglinna approaching them, his eyes fixed on the crouched figure at the two Elves' feet.  
  
"Rather an odd creature, is it not," he said in way of assessment.  
  
"Aye," Lindir said quietly, handing Gollum a flask of water that was eyed suspiciously before he gulped it down. "Truly he is. Though he cannot be as dangerous as the Dunadan says."  
  
"If Dunadan says he is dangerous then you had better believe that he is," Tanglinna said sharply, noting how the creature's lamp like eyes moved toward him. "You cannot let him trick you into believing otherwise."  
  
Gollum growled low in his throat, not liking the tall silver haired Elf that carried a great long bow across his back.  
  
"Are you still hungry, Gollum?" Legolas asked, turning to see Tavor and Brethil coming down the path, speaking quietly together. The three had been best friends since they were small children, and though the carefree days of their youth were over the friendship was still strong. There had been a time that Legolas had been very angry with Brethil over his telling King Thranduil about Legolas meeting with his Orc friend. That bit of Brethilitis had ended in the Orc's capture and Legolas desperate, but futile fight to save him. There was still a reserve between the three, but the relationship was mending.  
  
"Gollum is not our name," Gollum said petulantly. "Smeagol. Smeagol."  
  
"Smeagol? I thought Mithrandir said it was Gollum," Lindir frowned, crouching to get a better look at him.  
  
"Smeagol, my precious. That is who we are. Smeagol," he moaned, placing the long hands on his bony skull, lost in some distant painful memory.  
  
"Very well," Legolas shrugged, knowing that it didn't matter what they called him. "Are you still hungry, Smeagol?"  
  
Smeagol ignored them all, muttering to himself in low desperate tones.  
  
Lindir stood, and acknowledged the prince's friends with a nod.  
  
"I might have known that the two of you would come to gawk at the creature," Tanglinna said, shaking his head. "Keep a close watch on him, caun-nin {my prince}. Dunadan would not be pleased if he were to escape our vigilance. I will go and choose some others that will help you guard him." He shot a look at Brethil and Tavor before turning smartly and moving away from them on silent feet. Suddenly he turned back to them. "And do NOT let it go because it looks sad, Brethil," he called in an annoyed tone before leaving them.  
  
"I wouldn't do that," Brethil said quietly. "Not any more. He knows that."  
  
"Are the two of you going to volunteer to help us watch him?" Legolas asked, turning his blue eyes to his friends.  
  
"I would like to if you will have us," Brethil said quietly with a glance at Tavor.  
  
"Lindir and I would be glad to," Legolas said with a small smile. "Just don't let him go."  
  
Brethil looked over at him, returning the smile.  
  
"Tanglinna is right, Lindir," he said softly, his gaze moving to the younger Elf. "Appearances can be deceiving. I should know. I have misjudged before."  
  
Legolas' smile widened slightly. He knew that Brethil was apologizing once more for what had happened when he had inadvertently betrayed Egla Ash to Thranduil.  
  
"Well, then! I know that you will need my help," Tavor said with a sigh. "Mithrandir would not be happy if Brethil OR Lindir set Gollum - er - Smeagol free."  
  
"I didn't say I would set him free either, Tavor!" Lindir said in exasperation. "I am not nearly as bad as Brethil must have been!"  
  
Brethil shot him a look of mock hurt.  
  
"I was not as bad as you have heard," he said indignantly and then burst into laughter, knowing that indeed he was as bad as the young Elf had heard.  
  
Legolas and Tavor looked at one another and nodded sagely, then laughed with him.  
  
As the other two continued to tease Lindir, Legolas turned his eyes south, a feeling of sorrow coming over him even in the midst of his mirth.  
  
~Where are you, Egla Ash? ~ he thought. ~ Where are you, my friend? ~  
  
But only the quiet sounds of the night birds answered his call.  
  
  
  
The next day Aragorn went with Legolas to Beleg Doron, the great oak of Mirkwood. Its spreading branches were covered with leaves just beginning to show their coppery autumn colors, the grass turning brown at its roots. Legolas sprang nimbly into the lower branches, and smiled down at the Ranger.  
  
"Come, Aragorn. Join me!"  
  
Aragorn frowned slightly, staring up into the tree.  
  
"I am not as good at climbing trees as you are, Legolas," he said with a grin.  
  
"Of course you are. Come on up."  
  
Seeing the slightly challenging look in the Elf's eyes, the Man shrugged and pulled himself into the tree.  
  
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Legolas said, his blue eyes merry.  
  
Aragorn settled on the branch, his back against the broad, mottled trunk. He watched as the Elf seated himself on the slimmer part of the branch, knees tucked under his chin.  
  
"I am not an Elf, you know. Or a bird," he quipped lightly, remembering the many times he wished he had been when he was growing up in an Elvish household. He had envied his foster brothers' many abilities that only their kind possessed.  
  
"You are doing a fairly good imitation then," Legolas murmured with a grin.  
  
Aragorn smiled over at him.  
  
"How is our prisoner faring?" he asked.  
  
"Smeagol is. . .well, he is chafing under his confinement. But that is to be expected. We took him out in the night, since he said he can't abide the sun. He broods too much . . . especially about his 'precious'. What is that? Do you know? None of us can guess what it is that troubles him so."  
  
Aragorn sighed, running a hand over his dark hair.  
  
"Just a trinket," he murmured, his blue-grey eyes troubled. ~Or so I hope. ~  
  
Legolas could see the troubled expression that darkened his friend's features, so he didn't press him about the subject.  
  
"He has been . . . tortured, hasn't he?" he asked quietly. "He cries out in his sleep." Legolas remembered his own fretful sleep filled with nightmares after his rescue from Emyn Mor Esgal, and his sympathy went out to the small, twisted creature that Aragorn had brought to them.  
  
"Yes. When I came upon him he was traveling west, away from Mordor," the Ranger answered in a subdued voice.  
  
"Mordor? Do you think he had been held captive there?"  
  
"I do."  
  
Legolas frowned, his blue eyes filled with emotion. Slowly he raised his head to look at Aragorn.  
  
"Aragorn," he began softly. "Have you seen any Orcs in your travels?"  
  
The Ranger laughed.  
  
"That is a rather silly question, my friend. I have seen a great many Orcs, and other fell things besides."  
  
"Yes, but have you seen . . ."Legolas sighed. "Have you seen Egla Ash?"  
  
Aragorn gazed sadly at him and shook his head, reaching out one hand to gently touch the Elf's arm.  
  
"No. But I do not often stop to look in their eyes. I have not seen him."  
  
Legolas nodded, having expected as much, his eyes on the ground below them.  
  
"I . . .I miss him, Estel. It has been many years since I have heard his voice, but still I think of him often. I wonder what became of him."  
  
"I do as well. Perhaps someday we will know." He stretched, not wanting to tell Legolas of what he feared had happened to Egla Ash. "For now," he said. "I wish to get out of this tree. It is not very comfortable."  
  
Legolas slipped lightly to the ground, and watched as Aragorn dropped down beside him.  
  
Gandalf had left earlier that day on an urgent errand that he would not discuss, and Aragorn planned on leaving in a short time as well. The two friends walked in silence through Mirkwood's autumn splendor, speaking of many things though the talk soon returned to Gollum.  
  
"You must truly watch him, Legolas," he said. "Perhaps he may find some semblance of peace here. Gandalf hopes so, but I do not know myself."  
  
"We will do what we can for him. I hope that you may return soon to find him healing."  
  
"As do I." Aragorn gripped the Elf's forearm and smiled at him. "I will watch for Egla Ash, Legolas," he promised.  
  
"Thank you. We will watch Gollum for you. Diligently."  
  
The Ranger turned then and walked west. Legolas watched him until he was out of sight, following the path through the trees. It would be many months before he saw Aragorn again.  
  
He stood in a group of Orcs, waiting for their Captain's decision. The creature they hunted had eluded them yet again. The Orcs standing about him spoke to one another in their harsh voices, including him in their short guttural conversations. They still didn't trust him entirely, and he knew that the Captain kept a close watch on him. But for twenty- eight years he had been as they were, delighting in cruelty and hatred. Only his blue eyes set him apart now. His cursed Elf blue eyes. He hated the Elves. He had derived much pleasure in hurting them and slaying them, watching their blood flow red over his hands. But there was one Elf that he hated above all others. He had become this twisted, vile entity because of him, tortured and tormented, twisted and changed. "Legolas Greenleaf." He hissed, into the night, remembering all the pain he had suffered. "Legolas Greenleaf. One day we will meet again. And on that day you will die." 


	2. Chapter 2

This is the final revision of this chapter as of 10/02  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Ennor is Sindarin for Middle Earth. The conversation between Gandalf and Bilbo is not of my inventing. Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson penned it, not I.  
  
Chapter 2 - Beneath the Stars  
  
After Aragorn had taken leave of Legolas he traveled for some time. He had walked on the Elf path for many miles, and then turned off it heading north. He came to a place known as Gael Dor, the Glimmering Place. Egla Ash had lived here once after deserting the Orcs of Emyn Mor Esgal when he had chosen to rescue Legolas from their clutches. He had lived here beneath the trees, happy for a time. Then the unthinkable had happened. Legolas had finally admitted to the Ranger how Thranduil had sent some of his archers to kill the Orc. Aragorn had understood the King's feelings in this, though he also knew that Egla Ash would never harm any of the Elves, after all he had risked everything to help free Legolas. When the Elves had come upon him and wounded him, they were attacked by a band of Orcs from Emyn Mor Esgal. They wanted Egla Ash to pay for what had happened the year before when the Rangers and a handful of Elves under Aragorn's command had set upon them. Their captive had been freed and many of the Orcs had been slain.  
  
His former comrades had taken Egla Ash. Aragorn and Legolas had pursued them south to Dol Guldur, but they had been unable to rescue him before he disappeared into the tower. They themselves had been pursued by Orcs, and had been rescued by Gandalf. What had become of Egla Ash no one knew. Aragorn feared that he hadn't die, that would be a kinder fate that what the Ranger feared had happened to him.  
  
Aragorn shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he glanced about the clearing. Fall leaves covered the ground in a carpet of many colors. They crunched pleasantly underfoot. He searched for any sign that someone had been here recently, but there was nothing. As he walked the perimeter of Gael Dor he stared into the dark trees beyond. All was quiet.  
  
The Ranger went to the center of the clearing and sat down, pulling out his pipe. He remembered the first time he had come here, lead by Egla Ash who gently carried an unconscious Legolas. He smiled as he recalled that night. The first time he had met the Orc had been most unusual. The Orc had been singing the song he had written for his new friend, a captive Elf, but the smile vanished as he thought that how a friendship begun in darkness had also ended in darkness. He sighed, leaning back against the tree to smoke, his eyes distant.  
  
Like Legolas he wondered what had truly become of the Orc. No word of him had reached any of them in all that time. He feared the worst, and hoped that neither he nor Legolas would ever see him if what Aragorn feared had come to pass. He stared unseeing at the smoke that curled before his face and found his thoughts turning to Gandalf. The Istari had ridden for the libraries of Gondor, and Aragorn hoped that he could find what he sought there. They were to meet again soon, so the Ranger finished his pipe and stood. He turned from the clearing of Gael Dor and headed west once more.  
  
  
  
Gandalf had indeed ridden for Gondor to search the libraries there. He hoped that he was mistaken in what he feared. He knew the search would not be easy for many scrolls, books, parchments, and papers filled the cavernous crowded rooms. It would take him some time to find what he wanted, if it still existed. Amazing how much fear and anxiety two small words could cause. Now those two words ran through his head over and over.  
  
My precious . . .my precious . . .  
  
The creature Gollum used them often, barely speaking a few sentences without them. What disturbed the Wizard most was when Bilbo had used them. The gentle little Hobbit that Gandalf had gifted with a great adventure had changed in that moment as he had prepared to leave for Rivendell.  
  
"I think you should leave the ring behind, Bilbo. Is that so hard?" The Wizard had asked quietly, trying not to let his deep fear show.  
  
"Well, no . . . and yes, now it comes to it. I don't feel like parting with it. It's mine!" the Hobbit had declared in a sharp voice, clenching the gold ring in his hand. "I found it. It came to me."  
  
"There is no need to get angry."  
  
"Well, if I'm angry it's your fault! It's mine. My own. My precious." The last words had been a hiss too like Gollum's speech for comfort.  
  
My precious . . .  
  
Two very troubling words indeed, and they were what had sent Gandalf flying to the White City, fear gnawing away at him.  
  
My precious . . .  
  
  
  
Over the next few months the Elves kept their constant vigil over the creature Smeagol. They took him out, and deep into the forest on fair nights. He seemed fascinated by the great trees of Mirkwood and enjoyed his time spent in relative freedom beneath the stars.  
  
One evening when his guards included Brethil, Tavor, Lindir, and Legolas they decided to take him to Beleg Doron. It was a beautiful night, and they were enjoying each other's company, their light voices filled with laughter and song as they walked beneath the trees and the stars.  
  
"What do they say, my precious?" Smeagol asked himself, watching them with his strange eyes huge. "What do the Elves always sing about? It hurts our ears, my precious. Yes, it does." He moaned, covering his offended ears, then roll his eyes to see if they were watching him.  
  
Lindir, who was fascinated with the strange little creature, laughed merrily.  
  
"You say our singing hurts your ears, Smeagol? But how can this be? Wood Elves have the fairest of all voices on Ennor," he protested.  
  
"I don't know about that, Lindir," Tavor said with a smile. "Some of the notes you sang were amiss."  
  
The young dark haired Elf turned to him, his eyes filled with indignation.  
  
"That is not so!"  
  
"Well," Tavor continued with a grin, and a sly glance at Legolas, "then mayhap it was the Singing Orc Princess."  
  
Legolas turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"That was a very long time ago, Tavor," he said with a smile of his own. "I think my voice has improved since then."  
  
Tavor shrugged, and grinned.  
  
"Well, I am not one to argue with the 'princess', but -"  
  
"Be quiet back there, you four!" a voice called to them, filled with merriment.  
  
"We were only teasing, Calenthar," Legolas called, with a merry laugh. "Everyone knows what a lovely voice I have."  
  
Tavor raised one brow, and gazed at Lindir, who was now stifling a laugh. He had heard about the Singing Orc Princess and found it highly amusing, if somewhat hard to believe.  
  
"Are they going to fight, my precious?" Smeagol wondered aloud, glancing uneasily from one Elf to the others.  
  
"Nay, Smeagol," Lindir assured him, gently touching his loathsome face. Only he had ever brought himself to touch the creature. "We aren't going to fight. I am sorry that we worried you," he said with a kind smile.  
  
Legolas shook his head in amusement. He still did not see how Lindir could abide to be so close to Smeagol. He was a rather disgusting creature, with his muttering and moaning about his 'precious'. Then he smiled ruefully. How different was this from his relationship with Egla Ash? He sighed slightly, turning his eyes to the sky above. The stars were beautiful that night, shining so brightly. Was Egla Ash perhaps looking at them, too? Many of the Orc's songs were about the stars.  
  
"Galad echuiel ned mor Luthaiel faer-nin. Pathraeil i daw ah el aerlinn. Siriaiel or enni. Echuir I du ah galad."  
  
{Light awakening in darkness Enchanting my spirit. Filling the night with star song. Flow over me, Stirring the nightfall with light.}  
  
"What is the Elf singing, my precious? We don't understands it," Smeagol said, looking to Lindir for an answer.  
  
The others turned to Legolas, who had quietly sung the words without knowing it.  
  
"That was beautiful, Legolas," Calenthar commented as he and Cuil turned to wait for them to catch up.  
  
Thranduil's son shook his head.  
  
"Nay, Calenthar. It was not mine. That was one of Egla Ash's. He made many wonderful songs."  
  
Tavor and Brethil exchanged uneasy glances. They had avoided the subject of the Orc whenever possible. It was not something they felt comfortable discussing, especially Brethil. Lindir spoke up.  
  
"I wish that I could have known him, Prince Legolas. I - I think I would have liked him."  
  
Brethil turned to glance at Legolas who was smiling kindly at the younger Elf.  
  
"I wish that I could have as well," he murmured, fearfully meeting his friend's eyes.  
  
Legolas studied him for a moment, and then nodded.  
  
"Thank you," he said. "I wish that could have been possible. But now . . ." He shrugged, looking away. He shook his head, trying to overcome the melancholy mood that was descending once more. His eyes moved to the creature on the end of the rope. "Smeagol?" He was tied with the same rope Aragorn had brought him with. It seemed that the ones made by the Elves burned him, and he would cry that he couldn't abide them.  
  
The huge pale eyes swung toward him.  
  
"Have you ever climbed a tree?"  
  
The others exchanged startled glances, and then Lindir laughed with delight.  
  
"Yes, Smeagol!" he cried. "You will enjoy this I think."  
  
Together they led him to Beleg Doron, Smeagol muttering his concerns to his precious.  
  
  
  
The Orcs that hunted Gollum headed north from Mordor, searching through the Dead Marshes. There they had come upon a faint trail. It seemed that the creature was no longer alone. The direction they were heading was obvious: north toward Mirkwood.  
  
Anger boiled in Egla Ash's blood at the mention of that hated forest. It had been there in Dol Guldur that he had been born to this darkness that encompassed him now. It was there that Legolas Greenleaf lived. When they were told that they were going to continue to follow the creature, he felt a renewed lust for revenge surge through him. A very Orcish feeling. He clenched his hands in excitement. Soon they would be moving out to do the Dark Master's bidding. Soon he would meet Legolas again. His hand moved to his quiver, pulling out a single black arrow. He held it up to examine it in the starlight. The shaft was smooth and straight, a true work of art. He had shaped it one evening, allowing his hatred and feelings of anger and the need for revenge to guide his hand. He had strangled the bird whose feathers it bore, and carved into the wood was a name written carefully in Tengwar letters: Legolas Greenleaf. He smiled, admiring it, his eyes then moving to the stars above.  
  
~Soon, ~ he thought with a grim smile. ~Soon, Legolas Greenleaf, you will pay. ~  
  
  
  
Response to Reviewers  
  
JastaElf - I love reading your reviews. You gush very well! And I appreciate that. You ROCK! Shinigamio - Thanks for reviewing again. Love it! You should be afraid. Very afraid. Hmmm. That sounds familiar. Salak - You're welcome! You're welcome! You're welcome! So dude, what's up with the 'my precious'. Is there something you're not telling us? Hmmm? I thought of you when I wrote the Gandalf section in Gondor. (My precious) Jan - I've been in a conundrum about the book verse versus the AU. And yes, I know what happened to Gollum's guards. I remember quite well. (evil laughter) UV - More is coming, perhaps not as quickly as I would like (or hopefully you), but I like cliffhangers myself. So expect some more. 


	3. Chapter 3

This is the final revision of this chapter as of 10/02  
  
Author's Note -The account of Isildur, and the conversation between Gandalf and Frodo are from the book and the movie. I didn't write them.  
  
Chapter 3 - Dark Dread  
  
"Reviel ambenn, glingiel tallen, Lalaith pathra i gwelu. Smeagol, Smeagol, tithen galadh meldir Labaiel si a ennas.  
  
Dae melethron, galenas thurin Er am ned i hwest. Smeagol, Smeagol, tithen galadh meldir, Si tol dad an enni."  
  
{Flying upward, dangling feet, Laughter fills the air. Smeagol, Smeagol, little tree friend, Hopping here and there.  
  
Shadow lover, leaf hidden Alone up in the breeze. Smeagol, Smeagol, little tree friend Now come down to me.}  
  
  
  
The light voice that sang the song was beginning to sound exasperated. Lindir stood with his fair face turned upwards as he stared into the interlacing branches of Beleg Doron. Gollum had climbed up the tree earlier, making for the highest branches as he always did. He was now lost amidst the new sprung green leaves of April. Over the past months the small creature had become an agile climber, using his hands as well as his feet to grasp the branches.  
  
"One of these days, Lindir, he won't come down," Tavor commented dryly from where he sat beneath the tree, throwing small pieces of grass at Brethil who was fletching arrows nearby. "Then what will you do?  
  
Tanglinna was standing not far away with his back to them, arms folded over his chest.  
  
"Then Lindir will have to climb the tree and fetch him," he said with a snort.  
  
The young Elf grimaced slightly. He had thought the same thing, and the prospect of climbing the tree, and catching Smeagol was not pleasant. He feared that the small creature was a more agile climber than he was himself, and didn't want to be the one responsible for his escape.  
  
When they had first begun to teach Smeagol to climb they had all been very amused by his pitiful attempts. Because he was determined he had persevered, despite the teasing and laughter. Soon he had been climbing easily and more quickly than the Elves could. He seemed to prefer the topmost branches of the tree, wanting to feel the air on his face. Always he faced west.  
  
They had soon learned to let him climb only Beleg Doron since there were no other trees close by that he could jump to. He had lead them on quite a merry chase once, leaping from tree to tree, silent and grim as he ignored their calls for him to return. The Elves guarding him that night had nearly panicked, seeing him escaping so easily. Not only would the King be displeased, but also Mithrandir and the Dunadan. Finally they had managed to catch him, some of them mounting to the trees ahead of him. After that Smeagol had spent many days in the dungeons, pleading and moaning that he was sorry, that he did not mean to make the Elveses angry with him. He wouldn't try to leave the Elveses again, would he, my precious. So once again he was out in the air as Mithrandir wished it. Their vigilance had been increased after that, but even Wood Elves can become bored with such a task. Lindir was the only one that stood looking up into the tree now with a worried expression on his face. The young Elf sighed.  
  
"Please, Smeagol. Come down. You have been up there for hours," he groaned, and then looked at Tavor. "What can he possibly be doing?"  
  
"I am certain that I do not know," Tavor said, throwing one last clump of grass at Brethil and lying back to gaze at the stars visible through the branches.  
  
"He is a strange one, isn't he," Brethil said quietly, brushing the grass from his hair. "Why does he always face west? Do you suppose that he lived there once?"  
  
"I know not. At times his speech is so confusing that I can barely comprehend what he means. I had hoped that Mithrandir was correct in thinking that a cure could be gotten here for him, but even I begin to despair," Lindir sighed heavily, his eyes still searching the treetops for a glimpse of Smeagol.  
  
"Have hope, Lindir," Brethil said brightly. "You should sing one of Legolas' Orc's songs. They are really nice songs, considering that he is. . .was an Orc," he finished quietly, his eyes returning to the feathers in his hand.  
  
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila. Ind mor lothron garo le Gil galad ath sila godref. Arad o ninath no or, Estel na tol."  
  
{Have hope as long as the stars shine. Though darkness may hold you A star's light will shine through. Days of tears will (soon) be over, Hope is coming.}  
  
Brethil's pleasant voice filled the night air. The other Elves stilled, listening to the beautiful words written by an Orc.  
  
"Where is Legolas?" Tavor asked, after the song died away.  
  
"His father put him in charge of a group that went toward the northwest to investigate the possibility of Orcs gathering there again. It seems there has been some sort of activity," Brethil answered with a sigh. He glanced up at Tavor then, his eyes filled with worry. The northwestern edge of Mirkwood was where Legolas had been captured so many years before. Thranduil had the caves beneath Emyn Mor Esgal searched, but the Orcs seemed to have vanished. The Elves feared they had only moved deeper beneath the hills, but hadn't wanted to venture further into the darkness.  
  
Tanglinna turned to look at them, knowing where their thoughts lay.  
  
"Any Orcs they find will be no match for the Prince," he said in a sharp voice, his grey eyes flashing. He knew that Legolas had asked to go. If there were Orcs gathering there once more, the Prince would know how to handle the situation. "He will be fine," the Master Archer said sternly.  
  
Tanglinna had been one of the Elves to accompany Dunadan on that night when the Orc had helped them rescue Legolas. He would never forget the feeling of anger and hatred that had surged through him at the sight of Legolas being drug from the caves by the captain of the Orcs. It had taken all his strength of will to stay where he was and not rush forth with a cry to cut the vile beast down where he stood. "The Prince will be back before we are, since Lindir seems unable to get Smeagol from the tree," he finished, turning away once more, his eyes unreadable.  
  
"Yrch!" Lindir wrinkled his nose. "I hope there aren't any! As Master Tanglinna said we are having enough trouble with Smeagol," he finished, raising his voice, calling loudly into the tree.  
  
In the branches overhead Gollum had listened to the song sung by the Elf below him. The words spoke to him, even though he couldn't discern their meaning. He recalled a time long ago, a time of family and friends. A time before the precious had come into his life and taken it all away.  
  
"My precious," he moaned, tears long thought vanished burning in his eyes. "oh, what are we to do? Deagol," he whispered the name not spoken in so long. "Deagol." His soul burned with only one pleasure now. . .the one pleasure that was his deepest pain. "Precious."  
  
  
  
"The year 3434 of the Second Age. Here follows an account of Isildur, High King of Gondor, and the finding of the ring of power. . ."  
  
The parchment had been dusty and crumbling, the delicate writing faded slightly with age. To Gandalf it seemed that the words were written in fire.  
  
"All that will follow in my bloodline shall be bound to its fate, for I shall risk no harm to this thing: of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me. . ."  
  
My precious. . .  
  
The Wizard had closed his blue eyes. Could it be? Fear hammered through him, his heart racing.  
  
"The markings on the band begin to fade. The writing at first was as clear as red flame, has all but disappeared, a secret now that only fire can tell."  
  
Fire.  
  
He had hurriedly jumbled the papers together, then grabbing his hat and staff he had run from the library of Gondor. He had to get to the Shire at once! People had turned to stare at the strange sight of the old man rushing down the stone corridors, mumbling to himself.  
  
Now at Bag End he was searching desperately for it. The carelessly tossed papers flew about the room in the evening breeze. Where was it?! There was a noise in the entrance hall and the Istari felt a stab of fear. Could they be here so quickly? Surely not. But it was no Nazgul that stood there, only Frodo, who glanced about in confusion at the open window, and the things strewn about on the floor. Gandalf's hand reached out of the shadows and grasped the Hobbit's shoulder, startling him.  
  
"Is it secret? Is it safe?"  
  
Frodo dug the ring from a chest, still enclosed in the envelope that Gandalf had sealed it in so long ago. The Wizard threw the envelope into the fire on the hearth, watching the paper burn away, the red wax running like blood.  
  
"What are you doing?" Frodo gasped, eyes wide.  
  
I shall risk no harm to this thing. . .  
  
Using a pair of tongs, Gandalf retrieved the golden band from the ashes and flame. He stared at it in awe and fear. Such a harmless looking thing. He moved it toward the Hobbit.  
  
"Hold out your hand, Frodo," he said quietly.  
  
Frodo's blue eyes moved to him in wonder.  
  
"It is quite cool." It would take more than a mere Hobbit fire to make this Ring burn with heat.  
  
The ring dropped into Frodo's outstretched hand. He flinched slightly, but then stared at it. It was cool to the touch as the Wizard had said.  
  
Gandalf turned away, his heart racing. Now was the moment for truths to be revealed.  
  
"What can you see?" he asked slowly, his eyes on the fire once more. "Can you see anything?"  
  
Frodo held the ring in his fingertips and examined it. What was he looking for? He shrugged slightly.  
  
"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing."  
  
Gandalf's shoulders slumped with relief, a smile touching his lips. The burden he had been carrying for so long lifted. He had been mistaken after all. He felt such release that he felt quite young and almost carefree.  
  
"Wait," Frodo breathed, his brows knitting. "There are markings. It's some form of Elvish. I can't read it."  
  
The old man's breath fled his lungs. He aged a thousand years in those few seconds.  
  
"There are few who can," he said quietly, not wishing for Frodo to see how alarmed he was. "The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."  
  
"Mordor?!" Frodo looked at the ring in his hand in horror, the fiery letters glowing on his face. How could Bilbo's ring bear words of Mordor on it?  
  
"In the common tongue it says One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them. It is only two lines of a verse long known in Elven-lore:  
  
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."  
  
Gandalf paused to draw a deep, steadying breath.  
  
"This is the Master Ring," he said, "the One Ring to rule them all."  
  
On that night a young Hobbit trembled in fear and dread at what destiny would lay upon him.  
  
  
  
Legolas and the five other Elves had traveled quickly, moving with all stealth and speed. A hunting party reported that they had found tracks in the northwest woods, Orc tracks. As they ran Legolas tried not to think of what lay in the direction they were going, but those low dark hills would not leave his troubled thoughts. He did not like the fact that he still felt a measure of dread whenever he came into this part of the forest. It was something that he needed to conquer. He had volunteered for just this reason. Nightmares occasionally troubled his slumber, dark and terrifying dreams of things that had happened, and things that had not. Lately his dreams had been disturbed by images of Egla Ash's blue eyes hardened with cruelty as he raised a black arrow to his bow.  
  
I morn gothfeng ned gurth. {The black arrow of death}  
  
Legolas tried to shake the feeling of foreboding that seemed to permeate the very air. His heart pounded in his chest as they ran silently through the forest, bows held in their hands, ready at a moment's notice.  
  
"Legolas!" Eithel called to him from where he knelt several feet ahead of them. He had been sent to scout ahead, and now he glanced up at his prince, the handsome face grim as he pointed to the trampled ground. "Yrch!' he spat, blue eyes filled with disgust beneath his spill of black hair.  
  
Legolas stared down at the unmistakable marks in the dirt. It was indeed Orc tracks.  
  
"It looks to be only a small party. Perhaps six or seven," Eithel continued, rising in a fluid movement to stand at Legolas' side. "Shall we hunt them?"  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood stared off into the dark trees. The tracks came from the northwest and seemed to halt here. It appeared that they came no further, but had turned about and backtracked. Why? His senses were straining for any small noise, movement, or feeling that the Orcs lingered nearby, but there was nothing. Was it a trap of some sort or had they changed their minds? He frowned, hoping that his fear didn't show as his eyes scanned the trees once more, his fingers tightening about the smooth wood of his bow.  
  
A slight tinkling noise overhead suddenly drew his attention as a breeze slipped between the trees stirring leaves in its wake. Hanging in the branches above him was a small pouch, its ties decorated with dull bits of metal. It was these that made the sound he had heard.  
  
"Keep watch," he told the others, handing his bow to Mithereg, and leaping lightly into the tree.  
  
The pouch was of brown leather, showing no signs or stains of wear. This told him that it hadn't been hanging here very long. He smiled, thinking himself foolish for letting his dark thoughts get the better of him. This was probably just a trysting place for lovers, and they left notes here for one another. If it were he would replace the note and the bag and leave it for the intended.  
  
But as he upended the bag, another thought crept into his mind. He and Egla Ash had left notes for one another in this manner. Could it be? His fingers fumbled in their haste as they tangled in the long ties. He finally wrested it open, hearing the quiet, amused comments of his fellows as they watched his antics. Inside was a rolled piece of paper. He pulled it out and smoothed it open. The Tengwar letters were somewhat crudely formed, as a child just learning the skill of pen and ink might make. He slowly read the Elvish words.  
  
"Duath danna erin le, Legolas Elvellon. Daw na o an gar le an pan lu. I elenath al-ath sila erin le. I morn gothfeng ned gurth ath maeg le. Lothron le gar daer naeg le gwanna na i cam ned mellon."  
  
{Darkness fall on you, Legolas Friend.  
  
Night is about to hold you for all time. The stars will not shine on you. The black arrow of death will pierce you. May you have great pain as you die at the hands of a friend}  
  
The Elf prince's hands trembled, and he nearly dropped the paper from fingers gone numb. There was no signature. None was needed. He knew who had written it.  
  
"Legolas? What does it say?" Mithereg called, gazing up at him.  
  
"It isn't a love note from Lindir to Meneliell, is it?" Limfalas laughed, winking at Rochondu.  
  
Slowly Legolas re-rolled the paper, replacing it in the pouch, which disappeared into his tunic.  
  
"It is nothing," he managed, thought his throat was dry, and he felt ill. He dropped to the ground avoiding their eyes.  
  
"Shall we follow the tracks, Legolas?" Eithel asked, glaring at Limfalas who was murmuring that perhaps the prince had taken a lover that they knew nothing of.  
  
"Nay, not tonight. They have gone. . .for now." Legolas took his bow back, his eyes touching Mithereg's for a brief moment. "We will go back." He turned then and sprinted swiftly into the trees.  
  
The others glanced at one another then followed him, not speaking.  
  
I morn gothfeng ned gurth ath maeg le. {The black arrow of death will pierce you.}  
  
So Egla Ash lived. . .but he had been changed. Sorrow tore at Legolas' heart as he ran ahead of the others. This had been his deepest unspoken fear, and now he knew it had come to pass. He glanced back over his shoulder toward the northwest.  
  
"I am sorry," he whispered. "I am sorry that I failed you when you needed me."  
  
The others didn't catch the words he spoke and they would not have understood them if they had. They merely quickened their pace.  
  
Morn gothfeng ned gurth. {The black arrow of death}  
  
He hunched his shoulders uncomfortably, imaging an arrow, black as night, striking him between the shoulder blades as he ran.  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
His eyes traveled to the stars, once so beloved of Egla Ash, that twinkled between the leaves overhead. Clouds were gathering in the sky, covering the stars with darkness.  
  
Daw na o an gar le an pan lu. I elenath al-ath sila erin le.  
  
{Night is about to hold you for all time. The stars will not shine on you.}  
  
He closed his eyes as cold fear grasped his heart. One hand raised to where the pouch rested against his chest, his footsteps faltering slightly.  
  
Lothron le gar daer naeg le gwanna na i cam ned mellon.  
  
{May you have great pain as you die at the hands of a friend.}  
  
  
  
Response to Reviewers  
  
AJ Matthews - I don't believe it! You read my fiction! I just about fainted when I saw your name. Wow!!! I don't know how you find time to review. Thank you (gracious bow)! Thank you! JastaElf - As always thank you so much! I'm glad that you are loving it! I'm honored that you would like to illustrate this story. That's too cool! UV - I can and I did. As for redeeming him, we'll see. Thanks for reviewing! long under tree - Heart of Darkness was indeed a book. But it is a good title and fitting. And yes, our fics are almost coinciding. So when are you putting another chapter up? Hmmm?  
  
Lithia - Human nature is a scary thing, isn't it. (evil laughter) Thanks as always for reviewing.  
  
Karina - Yes, it is starting to get creepy at this point! BOGUS!  
  
PuterPatty - I know you won't read this, but I am writing it anyway. Thank you for reviewing this story. Yes, indeed! We love for our old fics to be "discovered". You were right that "I shall risk no harm to this thing" did speak of the ring already having an impact on Frodo. :) I am glad you liked Lindir and Brethil . . . nuff said. . . :( 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 -  
  
  
  
May 3018  
  
Legolas was sitting beneath Beleg Doron carefully shaping arrows, but his heart wasn't in it. He laid the unfinished shaft on the ground and sighed. The past month had been torture for him, and the strain was beginning to show. Since he had found the small pouch bearing the threat from Egla Ash his life had lost all semblance of normalcy. More Orc tracks were found, and always they backtracked to the northwest. Always hanging in the branches was a small pouch bearing a message for him. He had never told the others what the contents were, but his distress was not as hidden as he thought. Even Smeagol knew that something was troubling the one Elf. He would turn his eyes to him wondering to his precious why that Elf never sang any more, and jumped at the slightest sounds.  
  
Legolas felt that there was no one he could truly talk to. He knew that Tavor and Brethil would not understand, and any comfort they could give would not be what he needed to hear. Tanglinna had attempted to talk to him, but Legolas had bolted, feeling that after fleeing him, he had lost his chance to talk to the Master Archer. If only Estel were here. He had met Egla Ash and knew what he had been. But the Ranger could be anywhere.  
  
The night darkened around him and he packed the unfinished arrows in a soft leather, and lay them aside. Soon he heard Lindir's voice as he and the other guards brought Smeagol out for the night.  
  
"There you are, Prince Legolas," Lindir called to him, leading Gollum on his leash. "We wondered where you had gone." He unclasped the length of rope and watched with amusement as the creature scampered up the tree, and disappeared from sight. "It is a beautiful night, isn't it?" The young Elf stretched, and then dropped gracefully to the ground nearby.  
  
"I am beginning to find this tiresome," one of the others muttered as they moved across the clearing. "How much longer do we have to watch him? It has been months now."  
  
"Until Mithrandir decides that it isn't necessary," Legolas answered softly.  
  
"Where is Mithrandir? We haven't heard from him in some time."  
  
"Or from Dunadan. I know not where they might be or what they are about."  
  
Legolas barely heard their talk. His blue eyes scanned the trees where the shadows of night were beginning to fall. For some time now he had the feeling that he was being stalked, but his hunter was always elusive. He knew who hunted him, and it made his heart ache. Egla Ash was out there, hidden in the trees that he had loved so well. Their time spent together beneath Beleg Doron had been one of discovery for both. The Orc had reveled in the new experience of being his true self, even going so far as to being "too Elvish". Legolas smiled at that, but then sorrow descended when he thought of what his failure had cost his friend.  
  
"If only I had been faster," he murmured to himself.  
  
"Prince Legolas?"  
  
"Yes, Lindir?" He started slightly, having forgotten the other's presence.  
  
"What is troubling you?"  
  
Legolas turned to look at the young Elf. It would not be fair to burden him with such doom filled thoughts, so he forced a smile to his lips and a lightness he did not feel to his voice.  
  
"Nothing, Lindir. Truly. But you. . .you seem to be filled with happiness this night. Could it have anything to do with Meneliell?"  
  
The youth laughed, his eyes brightening.  
  
"Perhaps," he said mysteriously, glancing at the others who had turned to laugh at him.  
  
A true smile graced Legolas' lips now.  
  
"She is very sweet, Lindir. I am very happy for you. Galu erin le." {Blessings on you.}  
  
Lindir smiled, his green eyes alight with love.  
  
"She is as beautiful as a slim birch tree, as lovely as a field of elanor," he began, and one by one he extolled the Elf maiden's many virtues.  
  
Legolas stifled the laugh that threatened and looked at the others whose eyes were all alit with delight and amusement. Lindir was well liked for his lightheartedness and his good natured ways. They were all pleased that he had found someone worthy of his affections.  
  
Suddenly Legolas stiffened, his eyes widening as he hastily stood. All his senses were on alert. He was not the only one that had sensed the danger. The others had stopped laughing, and drew forth their bows, arrows already nocked as bright eyes scanned the surrounding trees.  
  
"What is it?" Lindir whispered.  
  
They stood in tense silence, hardly daring to breathe. Above them Gollum moaned, clasping his hands on his head.  
  
"No, my precious. No. . ."  
  
Suddenly an arrow flew from the darkness and embedded itself in Beleg Doron, flying just above Legolas' shoulder, mere inches from his face. He turned to stare at it in disbelief.  
  
Two of the Elves fired arrows in the direction from where the arrow had come, and ran into the trees.  
  
"Prince Legolas? Are you hurt?"  
  
He felt a hand on his arm, and he swallowed. Lindir and Aradoltha were staring at him, their faces dark with worry. Legolas stared at the arrow that had pierced the tree. It was an Orc arrow, thick and black. Tied about it was a piece of paper.  
  
"What is this?"  
  
Slim fingers reached for the arrow, but Legolas' grasp the shaft and yanked it from Beleg Doron.  
  
"It is nothing to do with you, Aradoltha," he snapped, and instantly regretted his harsh words. "Forgive me, but it does not concern you. . .any of you." He moved away from them and untied the scrap of paper. It was as he feared.  
  
"Morn gothfeng na caniel an le agar." {Black arrow is calling for your blood.}  
  
Legolas paled, his fingers crumpling the paper. His breathing sounded harsh in the still air as Aradoltha laid one hand on his shoulder.  
  
"What does it say, Prince Legolas?"  
  
The prince turned and looked at him, the other Elf's face was filled with concern.  
  
"It is nothing. Call the others back. We need to return."  
  
Aradoltha nodded, then trotted into the trees, his grey eyes showing his anxiety.  
  
"Get Smeagol down, Lindir." Legolas moved slowly away from the clearing, his eyes on the ground. It would be soon. . .he knew that. The Prince bit at his lower lip, wishing he could banish his fear and dread. He would not allow himself to think about what might happen when they did meet again. It would be soon. He felt that. Very soon.  
  
Smeagol sat in the top of the tree, moaning to himself.  
  
"They are coming, my precious. Coming to get us they are. Oh, my precious. What shall we do? What shall we do?"  
  
  
  
He was walking through Mirkwood, his blue eyes darting back and forth, body tense and alert, for he knew that danger was near.  
  
"Legolas Elvellon."  
  
The voice drifted to him, carried on the air.  
  
"Morn gothfeng na caniel an le agar." {Black arrow is calling for your blood.}  
  
His head whipped around as he reached for his bow, long blonde hair flying. He held the bow ready, the arrow nocked, string pulled to ear.  
  
"Legolas Elvellon, morn gothfeng na caniel an le agar."  
  
The Elf turned again, and there he was. Egla Ash stood behind him, a black bow in his hands, an arrow nocked, black shaft fletched with dark bloodstained feathers.  
  
"Nin mellon?" Legolas whispered, lowering his own bow in uncertainty.  
  
The Orc smiled, his blue eyes dark with fell amusement.  
  
"Gwend gwann ned i doll," {Friendship dies in the dark.} he hissed raising his own bow.  
  
"Alcar!" {Do not!}  
  
"Namarie, Legolas Elvellon."  
  
The arrow flew, hitting him in the chest.  
  
"No!"  
  
Legolas sat up suddenly in his bed, clutching his chest. The dream had been so real that his chest ached with pain. His breath came in short pants, he moaned as he pulled himself into a fetal position, and closed his eyes.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
The quiet voice startled him, and he turned toward the door. A tall figure stood there.  
  
"Estel?" he murmured, hardly daring to breath. Perhaps this was yet another dream.  
  
"Are you well? I heard you call out," Aragorn said, moving across the room in a few long strides. He took Legolas' outstretched hand. "You're trembling. What is it?" He noted that Legolas had called him Estel. He only did that now when he was upset.  
  
"I am glad you are here. I needed someone to talk to, but there is no one hear that will truly understand." He stared up at the Ranger, all the fear and anxiety he felt showing on his face. "He is going to kill me, Estel."  
  
"Who is?" Aragorn sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking back a stray lock of pale hair.  
  
"Egla Ash."  
  
Aragorn studied the pale face before him, dark brows knit. He could see the terror and heartache lurking in the other's eyes. Guilt resided there as well.  
  
"Why do you think that?" he asked quietly.  
  
Legolas moved and got out of the bed. He went to a small chest tucked in one corner, and opened it. He pulled out the pouches with the haunting messages, holding them in his hands for a moment before crossing the room and handing them to Aragorn.  
  
"I have not your eyes, my friend," the Ranger said with a slight smile.  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood fetched a candle and lit it, holding it aloft so the Man could read the notes.  
  
The Ranger's craggy features grew grim as he read the messages written in Tengwar. He scanned each one quickly.  
  
"Where did you get these?"  
  
Legolas explained about the tracks that lead nowhere and the small pouches left for him to find.  
  
"And there is this." He set the candle on a small table nearby and drew out the black arrow that had nearly hit him.  
  
It was an Orc arrow. Of that there was no doubt, though it was perhaps more finely made than most.  
  
"This was fastened to it." The prince of Mirkwood pulled out the crumpled paper.  
  
"'Black arrow is calling for your blood'," Aragorn read. "Legolas, what makes you think that it is Egla Ash?"  
  
"I know that it is, Estel. I recognized his writing. How many Orcs can write? It is he. I know it."  
  
Aragorn sighed.  
  
"Then it is as we feared. He has been changed. I am truly sorry, Legolas."  
  
The Elf turned away.  
  
"I should have been faster." He whispered.  
  
"There was nothing more you could have done. It wasn't your fault."  
  
"It was Aragorn. I knew how my father felt about him living here in Mirkwood and I didn't warn him. It was my fault."  
  
"I know you hoped that your father would be able to overcome his prejudices. I am sorry that he has not. Most Elves do not change easily." He smiled wryly, hoping to lighten the mood. But Legolas would not be comforted.  
  
"No. If I had but warned him.But I didn't. And he was taken. I was too slow."  
  
Aragorn stood and moved to grasp the Elf's arms.  
  
"Don't do this to yourself, my friend. I cannot stand to see you this way. There are things that happen that are beyond our control. We cannot always make things come out the way we would have them."  
  
Legolas turned his head to one side.  
  
"I know," he said quietly and Aragorn watched as a silent tear slipped down one slim cheek. "I know. But in my heart I feel that if I had done something differently all would be well."  
  
Aragorn sighed and squeezed Legolas' arm.  
  
"Come with me and we will walk Gollum."  
  
"You want to walk Smeagol?" Legolas looked up at him in surprise.  
  
Aragorn shrugged and smiled.  
  
"There are some things that even I can't control." He said. "Come on."  
  
"Let me get dressed and I will be with you. Though I doubt Smeagol will be happy to see you. He still complains about that 'nasty Ranger' who was so cruel to him."  
  
"I have more scars from his cruelty than he has from mine." The nasty Ranger returned from where he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "Is he any better?"  
  
"I know not, Aragorn. He is a strange creature. Some days he appears better and yet others-" He shrugged, lacing his tunic.  
  
"I feared Gandalf was hoping for too much. Gollum has lived in darkness for too long."  
  
"Gwend gwann ned i doll." [Friendship dies in the darkness.]  
  
"To live in darkness for so long." The Elf prince shuddered. "Perhaps we should be surprised that he isn't worse than he is."  
  
"It matters not. His heart is filled with darkness." Aragorn ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know if there is a "cure" for that."  
  
Egla Ash's heart was filled with darkness now as well, the Elf thought.  
  
Legolas shook his head to rid himself of such grim musings. He grabbed up his weapons.  
  
"I am ready. Let us go and walk Smeagol."  
  
  
  
Egla Ash and a few other Orcs had taken up residence in Mirkwood. They had found the creature living with the Wood Elves. This was very good. He could follow his orders and get his revenge as well. They were near a place that the Orcs didn't like, a place where they didn't go. But Egla Ash felt strangely drawn to it. He had lived there for a time. He never entered the clearing, ringed with oaks, beeches and maples. But at times he would go there and stare into it. It disturbed him to be there yet something within him ached to be at this magical place that had once been his.  
  
Gael Dor. Glimmering Place.  
  
But then the anger would fill him, erasing all the ease and comfort he drew from his former home. He recalled the time spent in the pits of Dol Guldur: the never-ending pain and anguish; the darkness that had slowly slipped into his very soul.  
  
He would take the arrow from his quiver and hold its length in his strong hands.  
  
Morn gothfeng. [Black arrow.]  
  
Then his fingers would caress the name carved into the wood and a cruel smile would cross his ugly face.  
  
I anann na tolu. [The time is coming.]  
  
Soon, Legolas Elvellon. Soon we will meet again.  
  
I anann na tolu. [The time is coming.]  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
To all my reviewers who said "Poor Legolas" get ready for more. (evil laughter) AJ Matthews - Thanks for reviewing again! And JastaElf said to tell you to write more too! Though I see you already have! JastaElf - I'm glad that you are still loving this! And I will warn you that reaction time and angst don't mix well together. Uh oh. But its not in this chapter. Haha.  
  
Jan - You were right in your assumption that Legolas would rather that Egla Ash was dead or unchanged. As far as Egla Ash not being able to kill him. Well.You will have to wait and see.  
  
Lithia - Thanks for reviewing again! Human nature is wonderful and that is what makes all these stories so fun! Salak - Sorry I made you cry and -uh- dance. Is that kinda like a write faster dance? You know, the cousin of the rain dance??? UV - I am writing, writing, writing. I had actually already written this chapter when I posted the last one. But I just had to make you wait. (wicked grin) Amalyn Livia - Hi! Thanks for reviewing! And thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate it. And I love to torture you guys. Though as I told UV I had already finished this chapter. (And the next one to (hehehe)) But I wanted to wait a couple of days before posting it. And that tortures me! Go figure. Shinigamio - You are right! Egla Ash is out for blood. And here's your next chapter. This one is kinda angsty. But the next one is a real killer. (hahahahahaha) 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - This chapter is a very important one and has undergone only minor revision. There is one more revision coming and it will be the last one I hope. I apologize for what is about to transpire. Just remember.it is peaceful in Mandos Halls. :(  
  
Norui 3018 TA [June 3018 TA]  
  
  
  
The tall, proud young man stood on the western bank of the river Anduin, his dark blonde hair drying in the breeze. The smell of smoke was choking the air. On the other side of the river from him were the ruins of the eastern side of the once great city of Osgiliath, Citadel of the Stars, Gondor's first capital. Anger and fear coursed through him, as he clenched his fists. Of the company that had held the bridge that once spanned the two halves of Osgiliath only four now lived, having saved their lives by swimming to the western shore as the bridge was cast down. The Forces of the Nameless Enemy had taken the eastern half of the city that straddled the River. The power of the Black lands was growing and moving towards Minas Tirith.  
  
"Brother?" A voice behind him called weakly.  
  
He turned to see a slim younger man with dark blonde hair looking at him through bleak grey eyes.  
  
"Are you alright, my brother?" He asked, straightening and moving to join the older man.  
  
"Aye, Faramir." His voice was tight and full of wrath. "We were outnumbered," he muttered, shaking a fist toward the east. "What chance did we have when Mordor has swelled its ranks with the Easterlings and the Haradrim."  
  
"Nay, Boromir. It was not only that," one of the other men said, joining them to look across at the place of their last stand east of Anduin. "There was a fell power with them. Some saw it, like a great black horseman, they said. Wherever he came battle madness filled the foe, but fear fell on us and many fled. We few came back to destroy the bridge. We could not stand against such a power."  
  
Boromir sighed, passing a hand through his damp hair.  
  
"Smoke rises once more from Orodruin - Mount Doom. I know not what we can do." He said wearily.  
  
"We will not give up," the man said sternly, his eyes sharp and grey as he stared at the rising smoke in the east.  
  
"Nay. We never will. Come. We must tell my father what has befallen."  
  
The four bedraggled men headed to the west, toward the city of Minis Tirith.  
  
  
  
Smeagol sat quietly in his cell, surrounded by stone walls. The Orcs were coming, he knew this. He didn't understand the game they were playing with the one Elf, but sooner or later they would come for him.  
  
"Oh, my precious," he moaned. "We won't return to Mordor. We won't. Nasty Orcs won't catch us. No, my precious. They won't."  
  
The glimmer of a plan was forming in his twisted mind. His fingers ached with wanting the precious again and its call was much stronger.  
  
"Baggins," he whispered, wringing his dexterous fingers in agony. "Baggins."  
  
He knew what he had to do to get the precious once more. He needed to go west. Always west. Away from Mordor. Away from the Elves.  
  
"They are coming for us, my precious. But they won't catch us, will they. No. Not us. Not us. I am coming, my precious. I am coming to you."  
  
  
  
Deep in Mirkwood Forest a different sort of attack was being planned. A group of Orcs had come from the west in the Misty Mountains to join the smaller group already entrenched in northeastern Mirkwood. This small group had studied the habits of the Wood Elves that guarded the creature. They knew their movements and how many guards to expect. Not nearly enough guards, they laughed. The Elves were wearying of the task and were less vigilant than they should be. That was good. The attack would take them by surprise, even though they knew that Orcs were in the area. There would be no backtracking this night. Any Elves not killed would be taken for sport.  
  
The Orcs talked excitedly about this, sharpening scimitars and filling quivers with sharp dark arrows. Only one Orc stood apart, his hands caressing a single black arrow. The long wait would soon be over.  
  
"Sen daw le ath soga in agar, nin morn gothfeng." [This night you will drink his blood, my black arrow.] His blue eyes gazed upward. Clouds veiled the moon and stars. No stars this night, he thought with satisfaction. The stars will not shine on you tonight, Legolas Elvellon. He raised the arrow upward to the dark sky. Tonight you fly.  
  
  
  
Legolas watched as Brethil and Lindir lead Smeagol out for his nightly climb up Beleg Doron. The creature had been acting stranger than ususal. He kept fretting to himself unintelligibly, his large eyes round with worry and cunning.  
  
"Watch him closely tonight," Legolas called after them as they disappeared down the path into the forest. "He seems to be up to something."  
  
"It is nothing," Lindir called, smiling back at him. His green eyes danced. He had spent the day with Meneliell, lost in the pleasures of the young maiden.  
  
"Don't worry, Legolas. I will watch out for any of Smeagol's tricks," Brethil laughed. "Lindir has so many stars in his eyes that he won't see anything but Meneliell's -uh -face."  
  
Legolas shook his head in amusement, but the feeling of foreboding wouldn't leave him.  
  
"Be careful," he whispered, watching until they disappeared from sight. "Elenath sila erin le." [Stars shine on you.]  
  
But there were no stars on this night.  
  
A few hours later the Orcs attacked. A large group came streaming out of the trees near the palace, weapons drawn, throats filled with howls of delight. The Elves caught unawares, scrambled to defend themselves. Soon the peace of Mirkwood was filled with the sound of arrows flying through the air and swords clashing.  
  
Legolas had been eating a quiet supper with his father and brothers when a guard had run into the dining room.  
  
"Yrch!" He yelled, his sword dripping black blood. "They are attacking us!" Thranduil stood, looking shocked. But then anger suffused his handsome face. He strode across the room, pulling his flowing green robe off.  
  
"Bring my sword," he ordered.  
  
Legolas and his brothers were sprinting across the room, grabbing their weapons. Outside the palace the Elves were valiantly fighting the Orcs. Legolas had soon shot all his arrows, each one finding their mark. He noticed that the Orcs seemed uncomfortable fighting here, seeming clumsy as they tried to fight beneath the trees of Mirkwood. But he gave it little thought. He pulled his knives from their sheaths on his back. He slashed and stabbed at the Orcs in a dance of death. He felt a sharp burning pain as an Orc scimitar sliced his arm. He ground his teeth together and managed to fell the Orc. His grip on one knife loosened. He grasped it more tightly and continued to cut his way through the Orcs. Then the air was filled with black arrows. It was the last assault before the creatures turned and fled back into the trees.  
  
The cries of the wounded reached his ears, as Mirkwood's youngest prince lowered his bloodied knives. Elves bearing spears were running them through the prone bodies of the fallen Orcs, making certain that they were dead. Others were helping their injured comrades up, or kneeling beside those who would never rise again. Legolas cleaned his blades on his tunic then sheathed them, hissing as pain burned along his arm.  
  
"Are you injured, Prince Legolas?"  
  
A healer in blue and white was standing at his side.  
  
"It is not bad. Please tend those who are more seriously injured. I shall be fine."  
  
The healer frowned slightly then moved away.  
  
"Why would they attack us then flee?" Tavor asked, cleaning the blade of his sword. "They obviously came from the mountains. They knew not how to fight here in the trees."  
  
"I know not," Legolas answered. "Have you seen my father?"  
  
"Aye. He is unharmed." Tavor smiled. "I think he enjoys not these battles."  
  
"Who does," Legolas murmured. He turned to see his father standing several feet away, cleaning blood from his hands, his face disfigured with disgust.  
  
"We had better fetch the others. They will need to know what has happened. Luckily the creature Smeagol was with them."  
  
"Oh, no," Legolas breathe, fear gripping his heart. What if they had been attacked, too? There had been only six of them with Smeagol. He turned and ran down the path, leaping nimbly over the bodies of the fallen Orcs. Tavor and a few of the others hurried after him. They ran for some time, no words passing their lips.  
  
A deep feeling of foreboding filled Legolas. He feared that the attack on the palace had been a ruse, one to hide the true intentions of the Orcs. Gollum knew that something was happening. The pitiful creature had been behaving in an unusual manner, just as he had remarked to Lindir and Brethil earlier.  
  
Lindir and Brethil.  
  
"No," he moaned, his concern for his friends giving him fresh speed. Tanglinna was with them, and there was no better archer in Mirkwood, but still the feeling of foreboding would not leave his heart. So it was that he reached Beleg Doron first.  
  
Of the six guards that had escorted Smeagol here this night, three lay dead, arrows riddling their bodies.  
  
Legolas moved to the nearest. . It was Meren. He had been a mischievous youth, always joking and playing tricks. But he would be playing pranks no more. Beside him riddled with arrows was Tanglinna. The prince shuddered, his heart breaking as he knelt to close the Master Archer's eyes. Tears burned and fell as he raised one of the older Elf's slim hands to his lips.  
  
"No na sidh," [be at peace} he murmured, watching his tears slid over the back of the pale hand. He raised his head and turned to gaze at the last of the Elves.  
  
He was lying against the oak tree, his knife still in his hand.  
  
Legolas knelt beside his friend, tears spilling from his blue eyes once more.  
  
"Brethil."  
  
The Elf stirred slightly, opening his eyes. The gray orbs were filled with such pain, that Legolas reached up and touched the bloodstained cheek with gentle fingers.  
  
"Lego - Legolas?" Blood leaked from between his lips.  
  
Mirkwood's prince grasped his friend's hand gently.  
  
"I am here, Brethil."  
  
Brethil's grey eyes turned to him, his lips parted in a smile, but the hand between Legolas' was deathly cold.  
  
"I .I am sorry, Legolas.They took him.Smeagol.I think he knew they were coming.I am sorry," The Elf choked as blood flooded his mouth, leaving him gasping for air.  
  
"Shhh. Do not think of it, Brethil. The Orcs planned this attack very well. It is no one's fault. Least of all yours."  
  
Brethil's breathing eased.  
  
"I.I am sorry that.that I never met you Orc." He whispered. Then he stilled, his eyes glazing over in death.  
  
"Legolas?" Tavor knelt beside them. "Oh, Brethil." His hand rested on top of Legolas', which still held Brethil's. He could feel Legolas' hand trembling beneath his own. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he knelt beside his friends.  
  
"He is gone," Mirkwood's prince murmured.  
  
"Elbereth cradle him."  
  
They sat silently, the night quiet about them, Elbereth's stars suffocated by clouds. Tavor's free arm moved around Legolas' shoulders. They sat quietly for a time, not knowing what to say or even do. The Tricksy Trio was no more.  
  
"The others." Tavor began as he gazed about the clearing. "They're not here. We fear they have been taken. The creature Smeagol - his tracks are in the midst of the Orcs."  
  
Legolas sighed deeply, silent tears sliding down his cheeks.  
  
"They went.south," Tavor said reluctantly.  
  
South. To Dol Guldur.  
  
"We do not go that way," Legolas whispered, gazing at Brethil's face.  
  
Suddenly he gasped.  
  
"Lindir!" He carefully draped Brethil's hands over his chest. "They've taken Lindir?"  
  
"Aye." Tavor stood, his face solemn in his grief. "And Cuil and Calenthar. What.what should we do?"  
  
Legolas turned to look at the four Elves who had accompanied he and Tavor, more pain biting through him.  
  
"Take them home." He said, gesturing at the three fallen, his eyes lingering on Brethil and Tanglinna. He had never felt such lose before.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I.I need to be alone for a moment."  
  
"Legolas, it may not be safe."  
  
"Please, Tavor." Anguish filled blue eyes turned to his friend. "I will be fine. Now please take them home to their families."  
  
Reverently the three bodies were lifted and borne away, Tavor bearing Brethil.  
  
"Legolas, please-"  
  
"Go, Tavor."  
  
The Elf hesitated then turned and slowly left the clearing, tears still sliping down his face.  
  
Legolas swallowed and glanced about him at the bloodstained grass. Brethil and Tanglinna dead and Lindir taken. He felt his grief swelling to an unbearable point, threatening to overtake him What could he do?  
  
"Lindir." He murmured, clenching his hands. He could do nothing for Brethil and Tanglinna, but the others needed his help. His arm throbbed with the pain of his own forgotten wound. What would he tell Meneliell? He had failed them. He should have come with them this night. Some how he should have known this would happen. Tears slid down his cheeks. "I am sorry, nin meldirrim. [my friends] I am so sorry."  
  
He bowed his head, a hand rising to cover his face. Silent sobs shook his body.  
  
"Legolas Elvellon."  
  
The Elf froze, his eyes widening, his hand dropping to his side.  
  
"Legolas Elvellon, met gar tol an le." [We have come for you.]  
  
Slowly he turned, his heart in his throat.  
  
Standing behind him in the deep shadows of the trees was Egla Ash. The Orc moved closer, his great black bow in his hands, a thick black arrow fitted to the string.  
  
"Met govad ad." [We meet again.]  
  
Legolas stared at him unable to speak, the fear that had plagued him since he had found the first message hanging in the trees filled him once more, mingling with the nigh overwhelming grief.  
  
"Le alcar ped?" [You don't speak?] The Orc shrugged. "Aren't you going to defend yourself against me, nin mellon?"  
  
Legolas swallowed.  
  
"I will not kill a friend," he said quietly, though all his instincts screamed for him to reach for the bow at his back. Brethil, Tanglinna, and Meren slain; Lindir, Cuil and Calenthar taken by the ones Egla Ash traveled with. Too many friends had already died this night.  
  
The Orc smiled, it sent shudders of horror through the Elf to see its cruelty and malice.  
  
"But I would. Namarie, Legolas Elvellon."  
  
He raised the bow and released the black arrow.  
  
  
  
*Note - Yeah, I did this last time, didn't I. Well, I did it again. Ha ha. *Note - I was rereading a section in FOTR and came across a Rivendell Elf named Lindir. They are not the same. This Lindir is mine, not Tolkien's.  
  
I may need some time - give me time - to quote an old Hobbit - to finish the next chapter. It is slow coming. Go figure. Maybe Salak can teach you the Write Faster Dance.  
  
  
  
Lithia - Thanks for jumping right on that last chapter. You must have read it as soon as it came up. Thanks a lot! UV - You thought the last chapter was a cliffhanger? Just wait until you read this one! (heh heh heh heh) JastaElf - You're reviews make my day! And when you mentioned that flashback to Legolas touching Egla Ash's face - that was so cool! I didn't even think of that. (Yikes!) AJ Matthews - Thanks for reviewing! I will continue. (hand over heart) Haha. LOTR lover - Thanks for all your wonderful compliments. That makes me feel great! (Big grin) I'm glad that you like the tie in with Master Tolkien's timeline. The story with Gollum in Mirkwood was the story I wanted to do, but Egla Ash caught everyone's attention sooo.I got to do Gollum anyway! Shinigamio - Thank you! Angst can be fun. And I appreciate all my reviewers so I am glad to take the time to respond to everyone. I love you guys! (sob sob) long under tree - Thanks for reviewing and for the compliments. And I'll tell you about all that Elvish. I have the tendency to throw that in when I get stuck. It gives me a break while I look up the words. And unfortunately when they zip my file from Microsoft Word over here, they change it. All the Elvish I use is in italics on my file so everyone who doesn't want to read it can skip it, but when they take it here, its gone. Sorry about that. BTW tell your editor to hurry!! Horus - Hi. Thanks for reviewing! This is what happens now! Salak - Thanks for your review! I enjoy reading them! And I have a favor to ask of you. Please continue dancing your Write Faster Dance. My muse is being fickle about the next chapter so - keep dancing. I know you can do it! 


	6. Chapter 6

Okay!! I guess the Write Faster Dance worked! Thanks! My muse jumped back on the chapter it was supposed to be…uh…musing on. Anyway here goes!  
  
JastaElf – As always Thank you! And thanks for that nice email. Again, can't wait for your stuff to go up! You Rock, too, nin mellon!  
  
AJ Matthews – So far Lindir is…uh…okay…for now…I guess…maybe not…  
  
Shinigamio – Yes! Your dance was wonderful! It was a tremendous help. Thank you! And well…there is another cliffhanger at the end of this one. Hahahaha!  
  
Lithia – You were too slow this time. I guess your life is more interesting. And I'm sure that you are definitely not a geeky loser! Certainly not in my book. Thanks for reading! I love to hear from you!!  
  
Lithia – You were too slow this time. I guess your life is more interesting…Uh…I said that. Did you know that you posted your review twice? Thanks times two!!  
  
Horus – Uh, or should I say UV. Or Horus. Or UV? Well, do you have a split personality or something? Doesn't matter. Thanks so much to both of you for being so kind to us, my precious. Urg…Did I just say that? Uh oh.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Norui 3018 TA [June 3018]  
  
  
  
The arrow struck Legolas in the chest, the impact driving him backwards. His back hit Beleg Doron, his knees buckling. But somehow he managed to keep his feet under him, leaning heavily against the oak tree. He stared disbelievingly at the length of feathered wood embedded in his flesh. A red stain spread across the front of his tunic, but the lettering on the arrow caught his eyes: Legolas Greenleaf. He reached up one hand and grasped the arrow. He gasped, hot pain flaring through him. He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to slowness, trying to will the pain away. When he opened them he saw a pair of sandaled feet. He raised his head. Egla Ash stood before them, his blue eyes fixed on him.  
  
"You're not dead." He said, smiling. "That's too bad." His hand curled around the arrow and yanked.  
  
Legolas cried out and sank to his knees, blood spilling over his hands where they clasped his chest.  
  
Egla Ash pulled black ropes from the pack that he wore and pulled the Elf's wrists up and bound them tightly, then wrapped it around his neck.  
  
"I am taking you to join the others. Maybe you'll be lucky and die before we reach Dol Guldur." He cinched the rope tighter. "But I hope not. I want to see you suffer as I did."  
  
"I tried to save you, Egla Ash." Legolas said, trying to see even a trace of the Orc's former self in the blue eyes. "I am s-"  
  
His words were cut off as the Orc backhanded him.  
  
"Din!" [Silence!] Egla Ash hissed.  
  
"Egla Ash, don't do this. I know there must be something of your old self left – "  
  
"Din!!" The Orc backhanded him again hard, his head whipping to one side. "Do not speak to me again or I will kill you now." He yanked harshly on the ropes forcing Legolas to his feet. Blood ran from his wrists and throat where the vile ropes cut into him, the sharp pieces of metal embedded in the rope piercing his skin. He stumbled after Egla Ash, heading south.  
  
  
  
The creature Gollum ran in the midst of the group of Orcs. He was frightened, but anger also surged through him. Anger at himself.  
  
"Foolish …foolish, my precious." He muttered. "Foolish. We were foolish."  
  
One of the Orcs trotting beside him, glared down, baring his fangs, yellow eyes full of impatience.  
  
"Quiet." It growled, raising a fist. He would not really harm the small, disgusting creature, which was against their orders. But all that muttering and hissing made him angry.  
  
"They hates us, they do." Gollum said, more quietly, his pale eyes glinting with a greenish light. "But we hates them more, my precious. But we were foolish. We shouldn't have come down from that tree. Oh no." He moaned, clasping his head.  
  
Just before the Orcs had attacked, the Elves had tried to coax him from his high perch, but he wouldn't budge. None of the Elves wanted to climb up after him so only Lindir remained beneath Beleg Doron, calling up to him.  
  
"It was the Elf, my precious." Gollum moaned. "It was the Elf."  
  
Of all his guards over the past months Lindir was his favorite. Such feelings of friendship had been so distantly removed for such a long time that at first he was confused and told himself,  
  
"It is nothing, my precious. The Elves must have tricked us. They are tricksy. Tricksy and sneaky."  
  
But as time had passed the warm feelings grew stronger, but not for all the Elves. No. Those he hated, he insisted. But this one Elf…This one Elf was kind and gentle. His starry glow didn't hurt Gollum's eyes as it once had. The pitiful creature would gaze at the young Elf as he sang or laughed with his friends. At these times Gollum felt almost happy – not the wretched happiness the precious brought him – but a wonderful, bright feeling, like he had a star glowing inside himself.  
  
"Foolish. Foolish."  
  
When the first arrows had come from the dark to strike down two Elves, Gollum had remained very still. His only hope of eluding the Orcs was to stay in the cradling upper reaches of Beleg Doron. The Elves had been surprised by the attack as the Orcs stepped into view, grinning.  
  
"Be still, my precious." Gollum hissed. "Be still and they can't get us."  
  
He fervently hoped Orcs couldn't climb. But in the end it hadn't mattered.  
  
The Elves fought valiantly and Gollum had watched while three were shot full of arrows.. When Lindir was hit, Gollum had moaned in anguish. He watched as the Elf had continued to fight until he was surrounded. He fought bravely and skillfully, his knives a blur of silver. But there were too many of his enemies.  
  
No…No, my precious…"  
  
When one of the Orcs smashed his scimitar's hilt into Lindir's head, rage filled him.  
  
"They cannot do this! Not to him, my precious." He leapt down through the branches and launched himself onto the nearest Orc. He bit and scratched, his long fingers twining in the coarse black hair. The Orc grunted in surprise reaching around to remove the small irritation from his back.  
  
"Don't harm that one!" One of the others spat, grabbing Lindir in a stranglehold.  
  
The Orc finally managed to dislodge Gollum and held him by the scruff of his neck.  
  
"Came off yer perch, did ya, little bird." He grinned, shaking Gollum slightly.  
  
"Let us go. Let us go." He hissed. "Or we will scratch and bite you again!"  
  
"Get a rope on him and let's get moving."  
  
Gollum felt the rough rope circle his throat. His eyes moved to Lindir. The young Elf's face was bloody, his green eyes filled with fear. He looked down when he felt at touch on his hand.  
  
"It will be alright." Gollum murmured, stroking the smooth skin. "It will be fine, my starry Elf."  
  
The Orcs, hearing this reassurance from such a miserable being, laughed, the sound grating on the ears of their captives.  
  
"The little bird comforts the Elf. Ain't that sweet. But it won't be alright, will it, pretty Elf." He squeezed Lindir's face between his strong fingers.  
  
"Don't hurt him, nasty Orc!" Gollum spat, leaping onto the Orc once more.  
  
But he was easily plucked off, leaving the Orc rubbing his ear where it had been bitten.  
  
Three of the Elves lay dead or dying. The other three stood, tied with black Orc ropes, eyes filled with anger and despair.  
  
As Gollum was shoved forward into a pack of Orcs, he heard Lindir cry out.  
  
"Brethil!"  
  
Gollum could see the Elf lying at the foot of the oak tree, blood staining his tunic.  
  
Lindir's captor yanked the rope about his neck, forcing him to move forward.  
  
Gollum grieved for the young Elf because of the pain he felt at the death of his friend, though Gollum had never liked that particular Elf at all. He was always laughing and joking and teasing Lindir. Gollum never liked that. But he would be teasing him no more. And Lindir's obvious sorrow touched the creature.  
  
"Where is the blue eyed one?" Gollum's Orc asked.  
  
One of the others laughed.  
  
"His Elf ain't here. He's gonna wait for him. He said he'll catch up."  
  
The Orc grunted and smiled across at Lindir.  
  
"Looks like we'll really have some fun soon." He said with a leer, then laughed when the Elf paled, eyes wide with horror.  
  
The blue eyed one was strange and he seemed overly obsessed with this one Elf, but it would be fun to see what torments they could inflict on the one that the blue eyed one wanted. He wanted the Elf to suffer. They all knew that. He spoke of little else – when he spoke at all.  
  
"Come on. He'll catch up as he said. Let him have his fun. We'll have ours soon enough." He jerked Lindir's rope, causing the Elf to gasp in pain, his footsteps faltering. "You won't be too pretty for much longer." He laughed.  
  
Gollum looked back at Lindir, wishing he could help his friend. But a sharp tug on his own rope pulled him forward into the trees.  
  
"We were foolish, my precious." He whispered. "But the poor Elf. We hope they doesn't hurt him too much."  
  
  
  
Legolas stumbled behind Egla Ash. His chest was on fire and his arm throbbed. But more than the physical pain ate at him. Sorrow and anguish – and disbelief - would be his undoing. Hope, that he hadn't known existed, had died when the arrow slammed into him. Tears burned in his blue eyes, slowly slipping down his pale cheeks. Egla Ash was completely changed, he didn't doubt that now. The cruel delight in the Orc's eyes – as blue as Legolas' own – as he yanked out the black arrow from the Elf's chest had crushed Mirkwood's prince. There was no worse betrayal.  
  
The Orc ropes cut into his flesh, blood trickled onto his tunic sleeves and collar. He felt no fear at his fate, it seemed too distant. His only thought was of Egla Ash's change.  
  
I tried to save him, he thought bleakly. I truly did.  
  
But he hadn't been fast enough.  
  
This brought thoughts up from the dark recesses of his mind, thoughts that had haunted him for years.  
  
Did he truly try hard enough? Did he perhaps delay at some point, and deliberately arrive too late? Why hadn't he warned Egla Ash that his father didn't want him in Mirkwood? Were his feelings for the Orc as strong as he had thought? Or did some well-buried part of him loathed the Orc because he was an Orc?  
  
"I'm sorry." He murmured, those very questions as hurtful as the black ropes that bound him. "I should have – "  
  
"Your tears don't move me, Legolas Elvellon." Egla Ash said, turning to look at the Elf. "And nothing that you can say or do will move me now."  
  
"I tried – " Legolas whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I did. You saw us. We tried to save you – "  
  
"Yes. You and your Ranger." The Orc sneered. "Did you run to him and tell him that the big bad Orc was threatening to kill you?"  
  
Legolas stared at him, the cruel, sarcastic words cutting him more than any knife could.  
  
Egla Ash laughed.  
  
"You did!" He hooted. "You ran to your Ranger. Oh, Estel. Egla Ash is going to hurt me. Help! Help!"  
  
The Orc's laughter stung him. He turned his head away, eyes filled with pain.  
  
"Is he coming after you? Is Estel going to save you this time?" Suddenly Egla Ash jerked the rope so their faces were mere inches apart. "If he is coming for you, we'll take him, too. Then you can watch him die." He spat into Legolas' face. "Just as you watched your little friend back at Beleg Doron."  
  
Sorrow and despair welled in the prince. What if Aragorn did try to come after him? No, he would not let him be taken. Never would he allow that.  
  
The night they had failed to rescue Egla Ash from Dol Guldur, when he had been lying wounded across the fire from Mithrandir and Aragorn, he had heard the two talking about Aragorn's heritage. It had meant nothing to him that night as he lay in a haze of pain and guilt. But he had thought about it later.  
  
Isildur's heir. That was what Mithrandir had called him. Legolas knew what that meant and he knew that at times it was a great burden to the Ranger. He could not be taken by the Enemy.  
  
Suddenly he yanked hard, ignoring the pain that sliced through him, as the ropes tore into him once more. Egla Ash stumbled, releasing the rope as it burned through his hands. Legolas turned and sprinted into the trees trying not to trip over the dangling ropes as he ran.  
  
He was free!  
  
He ran through the forest, every breath burning like fire through his wounded chest. He could hear Egla Ash crashing after him, cursing. He leapt over rotten logs and dodged around tree trunks. Fear gave him speed.  
  
"You won't escape me that easily, Legolas Elvellon!"  
  
His arm ached, hurting more now than it had earlier. And the ropes seemed to be sawing violently into his wrists and throat. He knew that his stamina would not be as great as the Orc's, but hopefully it would be enough. He looked upward at the trees ahead. Perhaps he should take to them, fly above the ground to safety. But even as this thought went flitted in his mind pain ripped through him. He cried out and stumbled, falling to the damp ground, the black arrow bearing his name protruding from his back. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - not yet revised  
  
He lay on the ground panting, pain washing over him in waves. He felt blood trickle from between his lips as he tried to push himself up, but found he couldn't. His fingers dug into the rich soil beneath him, the heady, scent of the fertile earth of Mirkwood rising to his nostrils. He gasped for breath as he tried to push himself even just to his knees. But then a foot slammed into his back forcing him down once more. A cry was torn from him and more blood gagged him as it filled his mouth.  
  
"That wasn't very nice, Legolas Elvellon. Not nice at all." The Orc twisted the arrow, forcing a cry from the Elf's lips.  
  
"You can't run back to your Ranger. Not this time." He slid the arrow slowly from Legolas' back, delighting in the gasp that escaped him, through tightly clamped teeth. He held the arrow up, smiling. "You have served me well, morn gothfeng," [black arrow], he whispered caressing its length with delight. He placed it in the quiver, then reached down and grabbed a handful of the Elf's silky blonde hair, twining it around his fist. "Get up, Legolas Elvellon." He yanked hard, pulling him to his feet.  
  
The prince of Mirkwood gave a startled cry of pain and fell against Egla Ash, his legs betraying him.  
  
"Stand up! Where is that legendary strength of the Elves? Or are you only strong when your Ranger is around?" He shoved him back, watching him fall back to the forest floor.  
  
Legolas writhed on the ground, whimpers of pain rising in the warm night air. His body began to shake, tears streaking his face.  
  
"Please," he gasped out, a plea wrung from his heart.  
  
Egla Ash stared down at him, seeming to hesitate. Then he bent down pulling the Elf upright once more.  
  
"The others are waiting. Or did you forget that your friends are in the clutches of their enemies as well?"  
  
Blood dripped from his chin in a steady flow, to soak into the ground at his feet.  
  
Lindir.and Cuil and Calenthar taken.  
  
Brethil, Tanglinna, and Meren slain.  
  
He sobbed, his emotions so ragged and torn, that he couldn't stop himself.  
  
Egla Ash glared.  
  
"I told you tears do not move me. Come You can always hope that your Ranger is coming to rescue you."  
  
"Im gar al estel." [I have no hope.]  
  
The Orc started. The Elf had used those very words when he was imprisoned beneath Emyn Mor Esgal after days of torture and torment.  
  
"I have no hope."  
  
"Yes. You do. Hope is coming. He has told me," Egla Ash had said him, so afraid of the defeat and despair in the other's voice.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"A Ranger. They are coming."  
  
"They are coming?"  
  
"Yes. Tonight. Please do not despair. All will be well."  
  
The words of a long forgotten song drifted into the Orc's mind:  
  
"Have hope while the stars shine.  
  
Though darkness may hold you  
  
A star's light will shine through."  
  
He growled suddenly.  
  
"There are no stars tonight!" He thrust Legolas' limp form away. "There never will be. Not for you. Not now. Not ever! There is no hope!"  
  
Legolas collapsed at his feet, moaning and trembling, but Egla Ash pulled him up once more. The Orc tightened his fist on the rope binding the Elf. He glared furiously into the blue eyes, his mouth a twisted snarl. Then, half dragging him, he pulled Legolas back the way they had come.  
  
  
  
Aragorn was seated by a small fire, his pipe clamped between his teeth. He stared lazily at the sky over head; clouds obscured the moon and stars. Perhaps it would rain later. He could see heat lightning in the distance and a far rumble of thunder. He sighed. He would have to move to a more weatherproof place than this small field in a place known as the Shire. Gandalf had asked him to keep a watch over the inhabitants of the small village of Hobbiton. One individual in particular. The Halflings - or Hobbits - were an amusing race and the Ranger was constantly laughing at their rustic antics. He stayed out of sight since they didn't trust the Big People. He didn't want to alarm them. And there was enough that he knew of that alarmed him.  
  
The Hobbit that he had been sent to keep an eye on was one Frodo Baggins. He was Bilbo's young cousin and that alone would have made Aragorn like him. He truly enjoyed the time he had spent in the old Hobbit's company when he had come to stay at Rivendell. He wondered at times if the Hobbit had any Elvish blood in his ancestry since his love of tales and songs was so great.  
  
But this night the Ranger's thoughts were not on Frodo, who was at the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater with his friend Samwise Gamgee enjoying a pint or two. All that day his thoughts had been troubled, by what he didn't know. But now as the stars were blocked from view by thick clouds his worry began to take form again. He took a deep puff on his pipe and blew the smoke into the air, watching the ethereal wisps wreath his head. He cast his mind about, wondering who could be in trouble. He knew that it wasn't anyone in his foster family. He would have known immediately if they had been in danger. He allowed himself a small smile as a well-loved face filled his mind.  
  
"Arwen," he breathed, taking a deep breath of the sweet scented summer air. No, it wasn't his beloved Evenstar. And for that he was grateful. He didn't know what he would do if she ever came to any harm.  
  
He thought of his friends and then he settled on a name. He sat up.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
Anxiety ate through him. He was certain now that it was indeed Legolas Greenleaf that was in danger. Indecision worried at his mind. He wanted to leave this peaceful part of Middle Earth and head immediately for Mirkwood. But he knew that his duty was here. Mirkwood was quite a journey and that what ever threatened his friend would take place long before he could ever reach the forest. He turned gazing eastward.  
  
"Legolas," he murmured, his hand clenching on Narsil's hilt. "I can't help you, my friend. I am sorry."  
  
As he lay down later that night to rest his dreams were haunted by a single black arrow flying through the night.  
  
  
  
Gollum continued to mutter to himself as they ran through the trees. The night was passing quickly and as the sun came up the Orcs stopped.  
  
"We hates it," he hissed. "We hates the Yellow Face." He covered his head with his large hands. He didn't want to travel beneath the sun any more than the Orcs. They found shelter in the thick tangled undergrowth, where the sun's rays shone weakly. They tied the three Elves to trees, ropes around their necks, their arms pulled back to 'hug' the tree behind them, ropes knotted on the other side. They were taking no chances. The Orcs joked amongst themselves about the sport they would have later when the sun was going down. Gollum looked up at Lindir, the young Elf's fair face pale and filled with fear.  
  
"Poor Elf," he said quietly, worrying at his own rope, until one of the Orcs growled at him.  
  
"Lindir?"  
  
The young Elf turned to his left. Cuil and Calenthar were both looking at him.  
  
"Are you well, young one?" Calenthar asked, his eyes full of concern for the younger Elf.  
  
Lindir swallowed and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
"I am well," he managed, hoping to hide his fear.  
  
The two Elves glanced at one another.  
  
"All will be well. They know that we are missing by now and I am certain that they will come after us. Do not be afraid."  
  
Lindir nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak.  
  
"The creature is looking at you, Lindir," Cuil said, trying to find something to distract the youth. "I think that he is sorry that you were taken. Though I am certain that he wishes Calenthar and I were dead. He likes you."  
  
Lindir's eyes traveled to Gollum once more. Indeed the strange little being was gazing at him with sorrow in his large greenish eyes. He smiled slightly at him.  
  
Gollum reacted with such joy that Lindir felt a flood of warmth for him. The creature smiled and raised his hand. For all that he was so strange and fey Lindir did like him. He found that odd and yet comforting. Was this how Legolas felt for the Orc Egla Ash? Perhaps such friendships weren't so hard to understand after all.  
  
But later that day Lindir would question such friendships.  
  
He heard a commotion behind him, coming from the north. He strained around to see, but the tree's girth was too great and the pain in his aching muscles screamed in protest. He heard Orcs talking excitedly and then he heard their vile laughter. He looked over at Cuil and Calenthar who shook their heads. They couldn't discern what was happening either. But then to their horror, the Orcs came into view. There was another Orc with them, one they hadn't seen before. He had a rope knotted about his large fist. He jerked the rope hard and they watched as another Elf fell into the midst of the Orcs.  
  
"No!" Lindir gasped. "Legolas!"  
  
Cuil and Calenthar stared at their prince in shock and dismay. How had this happened?  
  
There was blood on Legolas' face and it stained the front and the back of his tunic. One sleeve was shredded and blood adorned it as well. His face was pale, too pale. The two older Elves exchanged glances as they took in his appearance. Dark circles were around his eyes and he looked fevered. They knew what this meant: a poisoned weapon had wounded him.  
  
"Alcar anna ned an i achas a naeg, nin caun,"[Do not give in to the fear and pain, my prince,] Cuil said, his eyes bright with encouragement.  
  
An Orc stepped over to the Elf and backhanded him, drawing blood.  
  
"Silence! You will not speak that language before us," he growled, his hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar.  
  
"No!" Legolas cried. "Do not touch them!"  
  
The Orc laughed and walked back to where Legolas was kneeling on the ground.  
  
"You want to take their punishment, do you?"  
  
The Elf's eyes were bright with defiance and anger even as he swayed on his knees. "What punishment do they deserve, foul beast! Do not harm them!" He snarled, though his pain was so great that speaking was nigh on impossible.  
  
"They deserve punishment for being Elves. And how would you stop us?"  
  
The Orc bent down and grabbed the rope around his throat, twisting it.  
  
"What are ya going to do?" He hissed into Legolas' face. His fist smashed into his wounded chest.  
  
At his friend's wail of pain Lindir fought with his ropes.  
  
"You cannot do that to him," the young Elf cried. "He is a prince! You cannot treat him this way!"  
  
Cuil and Calenthar exchanged horrified glances.  
  
"No, Lindir!" Calenthar gasped.  
  
But it was too late.  
  
"Prince? Did you say Prince?" The Orc grabbed the rope once more and pulled Legolas to his knees. "Why didn't you tell us that your friend was an Elf prince, Blue Eyes?"  
  
Egla Ash merely stared at the other Orc.  
  
The Orc smiled viciously, its yellow eyes filled with malicious delight.  
  
"We have a prince!" He called, drawing the attention of all the Orcs.  
  
Hoots of laughter and howls of delight filled the air of Mirkwood. Lindir realized his mistake.  
  
"Oh, no," he moaned, guilty despair filling him. "What have I done?"  
  
Gollum had watched the exchange with little feeling. As long as they didn't hurt his Elf he didn't care. He watched as the Elf who didn't sing any more was yanked roughly to his feet.  
  
Legolas stood unsteadily, grim pride kept him standing. This was too like what had befallen him in Emyn Mor Esgal. He glared at the Orc before him. He was vaguely glad that it was not Egla Ash. He couldn't have taken that. He was aware of the other Orcs surrounding him, making a tight circle about him and the Orc who still held the rope the encircled his neck. He knew that he had no chance of escape now. There was only one course of action. He smiled grimly then jammed his knee hard between the Orcs legs, hearing the vile beast howl in pain and shock. A quick grin touched his lips before the other Orcs overwhelmed him knocking him to the ground beneath them as they pummeled him with fists and feet.  
  
  
  
Thranduil watched as the three slain Elves were carried to their homes, to their families. Three were missing. Only two had been slain here at the palace though several others had taken wounds. Many dead Orcs littered the fair streets of his realm and now Tavor had told him that he had left Legolas alone in the forest at the site of the attack. The Elven king had kept his disbelief and rage in check, but only barely. He passed a hand through his long golden hair, a few shades darker than his youngest son's. He gestured for his guards.  
  
"I want a group ready to follow me into the forest as soon as they can assemble." The guard who had overheard the conversation between the king and Tavor nodded and moved away, calling to his fellows.  
  
Tavor soon rejoined him, his face betraying the guilt and the grief he felt so keenly.  
  
"My lord, you know I would not have left him, except he insisted on it."  
  
Thranduil nodded curtly. He pulled his sword from its sheath and studied its silvery length.  
  
"I.I want to accompany you. He is my friend."  
  
"Then prepare, Tavor. Because I leave momentarily and will wait for no one." Tavor bowed and sprinted off to collect more arrows. He didn't see the small shape standing in the shadows.  
  
Meneliell watched the renewed activity, her large blue eyes filled with tears. Orcs had taken Lindir. The grief at this thought threatened to overcome her. She pressed her hands together, tightening them, so that the knuckles whitened. She could see that they were preparing to leave to rescue the captured, but how could they expect her to stand by and mourn when her lover was one of them. She would not. She turned and hurried down the street and ran to her home.  
  
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. King Thranduil would allow no females to accompany them. The women were protected - stifled- since the death of the king's own wife at the hands of the Orcs. But this would not stop her. She unsheathed a sharp dagger and grabbing her long auburn tresses, which fell to her knees, sliced off her hair at her shoulders. She ran to her clothing chest and pulled out a pair of rust colored leggings and a grey shirt that Lindir had left there. She raised the shirt to her nose, breathing in his scent.  
  
"Im tolui, nin penmeleth." [I (am) coming, my beloved.]  
  
She donned the clothing and turned to look at her reflection once more. It would do. She threw on a cloak, pulling it up to hide her features. Her dagger was thrust through the leather belt and she was ready. As she made her way from her house, she grabbed up the bow and quiver that one of her brothers had left near the door.  
  
Shouldering them she hurried into the streets and to the palace to join the rescue party.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*Okay, I know. She's pulling a Mulan. But I loved that scene in the movie. And if its good enough for Eowyn then its good enough for Meneliell! *Just an interesting aside - Have you guys read "The Return of the Shadow" by Christopher Tolkien. It goes in depth into the writing of LOTR. In one version there was a Hobbit named Orlando and one named Vigo. Weird, huh.  
  
Response to Reviewers JastaElf - Thanks for the great review as always. My muse appreciates hugs!! Great story and I see you have some reviews already! Good show! You're a hit!! Lithia - Thanks for reviewing. I am always glad to hear from you! Speed doesn't matter. Though you're pretty fast! Faster than I am about reviewing. Oh dear. Horus - You're right. (sigh) I can't kill Legolas. I'm not wicked (or strong?) enough for that. Oh, well. AJ Matthews - Well, no. Uh, Aragorn is not nearby. Uh oh! Salak - Write Faster Dances seem to work. Keep it swinging!! Shinigamio - I just like to torture you guys. (evil laughter) But since I don't like to torture myself I update as soon as the chapter is ready! 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - not revised  
  
  
  
Meneliell ran with the Elves that followed Thranduil deep into Mirkwood to search for the king's youngest son. She knew that they would then go after the Elves that had been captured and the strange creature that Mithrandir had brought here some time ago. Lindir had taken a liking to it, though Meneliell could not bring herself to see it with anything but pity.  
  
Oh, Lindir, she thought, keeping the burning tears in her eyes. I am coming, my beloved. Her slim hand grasped the cold hilt of the dagger at her waist, trying to keep her thoughts far from what might have befallen her lover. She could not afford to grieve now, not when there was a chance that he was still alive.  
  
She had been careful to stay as far from Tavor and her own brother, Glavrol, lest they detect her and unmask her. She would be sent home in disgrace. She trotted quietly listening to the talk about her. All the voices were low and musical, but filled with anxiety and anger this night. The Mirkwood Elves were close, as all those who live in constant danger are. If one was harmed, all suffered the pain. The losses this night were grievous indeed. She knew the pain that Thranduil must be suffering, as she felt the same pain. And as they neared Beleg Doron she saw the king's face, tighten in fear for just a moment before his face was once more a mask of calm authority. Her heart pounding so loudly that she was certain that all must hear it, she ran up the hill and into the clearing.  
  
It was empty.  
  
Meneliell's blue eyes searched the clearing for any signs that might tell the fate of those taken, but there was only blood upon the grass.  
  
"Ah, Varda, no." She murmured, as she stalked about the area of the battle.  
  
Thranduil had knelt beside the huge oak nerveless fingers touching something that lay on the ground. Meneliell approached slowly, not wishing to draw attention to herself. Lying on the ground at the Elf king's feet was a bow. She recognized it immediately. It was Prince Legolas'. Her heart went out to the king. She knew he had hoped to find his son alive and well. And here. But now they knew he had been taken as well. She walked to the king and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her with stark, tear filled eyes. He tried to speak but finally lowered his head in silence. He could not bear to live through this again.  
  
"We will find them, your Majesty," she murmured, making her voice low and husky. "We will not stop until we have found them and slain those that took them."  
  
Thranduil gave no sign that he had heard her comforting words.  
  
"Your Majesty." One of Thranduil's guards came over to them, his eyes filled with anger. "The creature Smeagol went with them. We have found his tracks in the midst of a group of Orcs' prints. I knew that creature would bring us nothing but trouble," he muttered, then seeing the king's gaze upon him amended, "The trail is clear and they cannot be too far ahead of us. Shall we go?" The Elf glanced at Meneliell, but said nothing to her.  
  
Thranduil stood and shook himself slightly.  
  
"Yes. We follow hard upon them. We must stop them before." He looked at Meneliell. "Before it is too late." His hand went to the hilt of his sword. He drew it and held it aloft. "Ed, Maethyr! An tur! A gwanath an coth!" [Forth, Warriors! To victory! And death to (our) enemies!]  
  
The warriors of Mirkwood took up the cry and as one they turned and ran toward the south following the Orcs' trail.  
  
  
  
Gollum had changed since being taken captive by the Orcs. It was a subtle change, but a change nonetheless. The time he had spent with the Elves had begun to sooth his tormented and aching soul. He still brooded and muttered to himself, but he had found friendship and that had begun the cure that Gandalf had hoped for. But his time spent here in the dark watching the cruelty of the Orcs, feeling his hatred of them increase, erased any good that had surfaced. He watched as they had beaten the one Elf, feeling nothing more than a passing thought that at least his Elf wasn't being hurt. The Elf had fought back, much to the delight of his captors. But in the end the overwhelming number of Orcs bore him down. Gollum soon tired of watching and turned to face the west.  
  
"My precious," he whispered, hands wringing. "We will come to you, my precious. We are coming."  
  
He wasn't certain how he would accomplish this, but he would do it. The precious' call was so strong it hurt. He could be sneaky and tricksy when he had to. He glanced back at the Orcs who were howling raucously as the Elf was pulled to his feet and held upright as an Orc punched him viciously in the stomach.  
  
Gollum moaned, sudden thoughts of his own torment in Mordor surfaced in his mind. His hands clasped his head.  
  
"Oh, they hurt us, my precious. They did. But they will pay. We will make them sorry for hurting us, my precious. Gollum.gollum." The soft gulping sounds came from the back of his throat, his large eyes filled with the painful memories that assaulted him.  
  
Legolas was bent over from the battering, but when he was pulled up once more, a new tormentor before him, he leaned back into the Orc holding him and kicked out with both of his feet. The surprised Orc woofed in surprise and fell backwards onto the ground. The other Orcs laughed at their fellow's embarrassment that only served to enrage him. He snarled and leapt up.  
  
"You'll pay for that, Elf," he growled, flexing his muscles.  
  
Legolas glared over at him, his teeth bared in a feral grin. His reflexes were slower than usual and his left arm was on fire. But he would give them the fight they seemed to want. He would not submit easily. He was a Warrior of Mirkwood and would not be defeated so easily.  
  
The Orc lunged at him, but Legolas twisted away at the last second and the Orc slammed into the one holding him. The three crashed to the ground. A small gasp escaped Legolas as the impact jarred his wounds, causing pain to knife through him. But then yet another Orc pulled him up once more.  
  
"Let him loose!" One of the Orcs called. "Let him fight!"  
  
The others soon took up this cry. The two offended Orcs growled and glanced at their leader. He looked highly amused.  
  
"Let him fight," he said, shrugging. "But if he escapes you will bear his punishment," he finished looking at the two Orcs before him, who both glared in the direction of the one who had made the suggestion in the first place.  
  
"He won't escape." He grabbed the ropes binding Legolas' wrists and throat and sliced them, making gashed along the skin with his knife as he did so. He tossed the ropes to one side and flexed his muscles impressively. Legolas kept his face impassive and rubbed his bleeding wrists.  
  
"Drega, nin caun!" [Flee, my prince!] Cuil cried.  
  
"Al. Im alath drega ar le." [No. I will not flee without you.]  
  
At the sound of Elvish the Orcs growled fiercely.  
  
"Take 'im, Durbak."  
  
Durbak, the one that Legolas had kicked, hunched down, preparing to launch an attack.  
  
The Elf forced himself to stillness. Orcs were clumsy and slow. He would have an advantage. But, he admitted, not as much of one as he should have.  
  
The Orc leapt with a cry echoing from its throat. Legolas dodged to one side at the last second and the Orc fell once more to the ground. It growled and moved to its feet once more. It lunged again. This time Legolas moved to one side and brought his elbows down on its back as it passed. This enraged the Orc even more.  
  
Fengbad, the captain, watched with excitement as the Elf and Durbak circled one another. He could see the Elf's pain and he suspected that he was poisoned judging by his slower than normal reactions, the bruised looking eyes. Elves were quick and alert. This one was clearly not at his best. But as yet Durbak hadn't managed to gain the upper hand. It was rather amusing. If the Elf had been at full strength then Fengbad doubted any of them could take him alone. His eyes wandered around the camp, seeing the enjoyment on the faces of his Orcs. All but one. Blue Eyes stood apart from the group, which wasn't unusual. He was a loner. Indeed, he didn't look amused or even as though he was enjoying the sport. He was a strange one. All he'd talked about was avenging himself on this Elf and there he stood, eyes unreadable. Except when Durbak managed to kick the Elf's legs from under him. A cry of pain escaped the bloodied lips, but the Elf rolled back to his feet and was continuing this entertaining dance with Durbak.  
  
"Hold!" Fengbad yelled, striding into the ring and thrusting Durbak out of the way.  
  
"What the-!"  
  
The captain held up his hands as the Orcs protested his calling their fun to a stop. Legolas gasped for breath, his battered body swaying. He wasn't certain how much longer he could remain on his feet. What were they planning now? His desperate eyes darted toward the three Elves. They were watching him with great concern.  
  
Fengbad turned to Legolas, grinning. He could see the Elf was weakening, barely able to keep his feet under him.  
  
"He is Blue Eyes' captive." He called loudly, noting how Egla Ash started at the mention of the name they called him. "Blue Eyes will fight him!"  
  
The Orcs stilled then turned as one to look at the blue-eyed Orc. Suddenly they began to stamp their feet and howl with delight.  
  
"Blue Eyes! Blue Eyes! Blue Eyes!" They chanted, clapping their hands and slapping him on the back while he moved into the ring of the Orcs.  
  
Egla Ash stared at the captain and then at his fellow Orcs. He had never belonged with them, was never one of them.  
  
Until now. They were calling his name. They were cheering for him. He was one of them.  
  
Slowly he turned to stare at Legolas.  
  
The Elf ran a hand across his face, trying to calm himself. The vile Black Speech sent shudders through his frame. His skin was feverish and dry. He sighed wearily, forcing himself to stand erect. He looked at the Orc and felt his resolve crumbling. He couldn't truly hurt Egla Ash, but he feared that the Orc would enjoy hurting him. A wave of despair washed through him. Hot tears coursed over his cheeks to drip from his chin.  
  
"Here!" Someone threw a crude Orc scimitar to Egla Ash who caught it effortlessly. "That'll slow him down a bit!"  
  
The Orcs howled again. The Elves tied behind them exchanged worried glances.  
  
"They can't do this," Lindir moaned. "They can't."  
  
"You don't know much about Orcs, young one," Calenthar spat, his voice weary and full of anger. "Uanui!" [monstrous!]  
  
Cuil was testing his bonds once more, but again they held firm, fresh blood flowing down his wrists. He felt such anger as he had never felt before, a helplessness as well that bit him to his soul.  
  
"But.Egla Ash was Legolas' friend. He wouldn't.He wouldn't," Lindir bowed his head in grim realization. Egla Ash had shot Legolas twice already and brought him into the midst of the Orc camp. Tears slipped down his pale face.  
  
Egla Ash looked down at the wickedly curved weapon in his hand. He caressed its cold length then held it up. The newly risen moon reflected dully in the dark metal. He raised his eyes to the sky.  
  
"Valmet tir i elenath eria." [We will watch the stars rise.] *  
  
The words had been written in the last message from Legolas, many years ago in a clearing with a tall oak tree at its center. Why did he think of them now? A growl of anger escaped his throat and he hefted the scimitar.  
  
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila. Ind mor lothron garo le Gil galad sila godref."  
  
[Have hope as long as the stars shine. Though darkness may hold you A star's light will shine through.] **  
  
The hand holding the scimitar began to shake. Anger and confusion clashed within the Orc. He gave a cry and lunged at Legolas.  
  
  
  
Note  
  
*This is from "Whisper of Things to Come" **This is a part of the song that Egla Ash made for Legolas in "Hope While the Stars Shine"  
  
  
  
JastaElf - Thanks for the great review and the feedback on Meneliell. I was feeling a decided lack of female characters. And if everyone hasn't read JastaElf's "Leaf and Branch" please do so. It's a great story. So go find it and read! AJ Matthews - Yup. Aragorn is going to have some guilt issues in a later chapter. Raye Yuy - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing. I love it when new people review me! I'm glad that you're enjoying this! Salak - Your dances are great! And they seem to work!! Keep them going! Lithia - Glad you're back again! Thanks for reviewing. I appreciate your continued faith in me! Horus - Thanks for complimenting my writing. Believe me I sometimes wonder about it. And here's what happened next. (hehehe) Shimingamio - Thanks for the praise. I love it! You're a wonderful reviewer! Irena - Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing this! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing "Whisper of Things to Come". I love it when someone reads my older stuff!! (Big grin!!) Egla Ash's fan club just keeps growing!! (He gives you a big grin, too!!) long under tree - I am feverishly working on the situations right now. And yeah, I am serious about the Orlando and Vigo hobbits. In "Return of the Shadow" by Tolkien's son Christopher, Orlando Grubb is mention in Chap. 1 Note 5, and Orlando Brandybuck is in Chap. 1 Version 2 Note 7, Orlando Burrowes is in Chap. 1 Version 3. Vigo is mentioned as one of Bingo's (he became Frodo in the final version!) friends who accompany him on his journey. Too bad their names all changed to other things, but I thought that was kinda cool. Thanks for reading my little aside there. (Grin!!) 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - not revised  
  
Legolas stared in disbelief as the scimitar descended toward him. Egla Ash was going to kill him! But as he moved - too slowly - he felt something wrap about his throat cutting off his breath. He was yanked backwards, choking in surprise and panic. He fell to the ground, fingers clawing at the leather around his neck, the scimitar striking the space between his legs where he had been standing.  
  
Egla Ash looked up snarling, and saw an Uruk-Hai standing head and shoulders above the other Orcs. A long whip was clasped in its hand, a grin on its ugly face. Long coarse hair swung down its muscled back.  
  
"What's this? The little rats are playing?" He pushed through the smaller Orcs, thrusting them aside. He yanked on the whip, watching as Legolas fought for air. He laughed and jerked him to his feet and pulled him close, their faces inches apart. "Found some sport, did we?" He looked to where the other Elves were tied and turned to Fengbad. "Where is it?"  
  
Fengbad, who didn't like having his authority usurped especially by an Uruk-Hai, moved to confront him.  
  
"What do you want?" He asked, his eyes narrowing menacingly even though the Uruk-Hai towered over him by several inches.  
  
This seemed to amuse the Uruk-Hai rather than irritate him. He laughed and released Legolas from the whip's stranglehold. Mirkwood's prince dropped to the ground, gulping huge breaths of air and choking.  
  
"You sluggards were supposed to move out at sunset," he growled. "The Master is not going to be pleased to find that you were sitting here sporting with an Elf."  
  
"The Master?!" Fengbad gulped. "Get up!" He called, turning to glare at growl at those under him. "We're moving out! Now!"  
  
The Uruk-Hai allowed himself a satisfied snort.  
  
Little rats indeed, he thought as he watched them scurrying about, breaking their hasty camp. They untied the Elves and hustled them into a straggling line, striking them with whips, sword blades, claws and feet.  
  
Gollum was brought before the Uruk-Hai. He stared up at it, his pale eyes narrowed with hatred. The Uruk-Hai bent down to inspect him.  
  
"We hates it, we does. Nasty Orc!"  
  
"Ugly little slug." He laughed into the much smaller creature's face.  
  
Gollum growled in his throat and launched himself at the large Orc.  
  
It caught the monstrous Uruk-Hai off guard. He tumbled to the ground, Gollum biting and tearing at him.  
  
Legolas had stood, gasping air down his bruised throat. He glanced toward the other Elves, eyes bleak.  
  
"Drega!" [Flee!] They called. "Drega, Legolas!"  
  
Cuil and Calenthar were pleading with their eyes as well as their voices. Lindir looked desperately at him.  
  
"Drega, nin mellon!" He yelled, the Orc holding his ropes backhanding him viciously.  
  
This was his chance when there was so much confusion, perhaps his only chance. Nearly everyone's attention was riveted on Gollum and the Uruk-Hai, looks of cruel delight on the Orcs faces as they watched their 'superior' being bitten and scratched by such a pitiful, little thing. It hurt him desperately to leave the other three in such a situation. He had told them that he wouldn't leave them. But he was no help to them as a fellow captive.  
  
He turned suddenly and ran.  
  
"You fools!" The Uruk-Hai screamed. "The Elf is escaping!" He finally managed to pin Gollum to the ground and ordered them to bind and gag him.  
  
Several Orcs turned and chased after Legolas.  
  
"Fools." The Uruk-Hai muttered. He grabbed a bow from a stunned Orc and sprinted after them.  
  
Fengbad glared around at the Orcs. They were in trouble. A lot of trouble. How he hated Elves.and Uruk-Hai.  
  
"Why didn't you kill him, Blue Eyes?" He demanded, glaring at Egla Ash, needing someone to blame for this turn of events. "Go after them!"  
  
Egla Ash looked up at him, then stared numbly down at the scimitar embedded in the ground. He blinked several times, scowling, then he shrugged and then trotted into the trees.  
  
Fengbad snarled and stalked about the camp, shouting orders and obscenities, striking out at anyone who got in his way.  
  
Legolas breath was burning in his chest. He could hear the crashing behind him and knew that he wasn't going to make it. His vision was blurring and his entire body ached and shook uncontrollably. He needed a weapon. At least he could fight them. A stout dead branch in the underbrush ahead caught his attention. He yanked it from the brambles that imprisoned it and turned, making his stand.  
  
"Elbereth, anna enni bellas." [Varda, give me strength.] He breathed, hefting the branch, amazed at how his hands shook.  
  
The Orcs skidded to a halt, surprised to see their prey standing before them, his legs braced apart, eyes grim and full of determination.  
  
"Thaur Yrch!" [Abhorrent Orcs!] He spat at them, all the hatred and burning anger he felt was poured into those two words.  
  
The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances.  
  
"Fools! What do you wait for?!"  
  
The Uruk-Hai strode through Mirkwood's trees. "Slugs! Rats! Cowards! Scared of an Elf with a stick." He reached into the quiver on his back and pulled out a thick black arrow and raised the bow to point it at the Elf.  
  
Legolas grimaced, fear racing through him.  
  
The Uruk-Hai laughed and loosed the arrow.  
  
Legolas raised the thick branch with a cry and was shocked to see the arrow strike it. He stared at it wide eyed. His vision was beginning to blur and he wondered how long it would be before he collapsed. Would it be before they killed him?  
  
The Uruk-Hai looked surprised as well. Growling he pulled another arrow from the quiver.  
  
Legolas didn't wait. He rushed forward, yelling and swung the branch at the Orc. It caught the Uruk-Hai on the side of his face. He roared in pain and fell to the ground. The other Orcs were slow to react and Legolas turned to run once more, but Egla Ash stepped through the trees, a bow in his hand.  
  
"I wouldn't if I were you, Legolas Elvellon," he said quietly.  
  
Legolas hesitated only a second, but the Uruk-Hai was on its feet, fists clenched. He strode over to the Elf and grabbed him by the throat.  
  
"I'll snap your neck, you vile Elf!" He threatened shaking the slender archer, enjoying the look on his captives face as he squeezed the slim neck, the Elf's hands clawing at the Uruk-Hai's much larger one.  
  
"He is mine." Egla Ash found himself saying, moving the bow so it was pointing at the Uruk-Hai.  
  
"What are you saying?" The Uruk-Hai said quietly, turning his malevolent glare on the blue-eyed Orc.  
  
"I caught him. He is mine."  
  
The larger Orc stared at him in disbelief.  
  
"What did you say, little rat?!"  
  
Egla Ash shrugged and fired an arrow into the Uruk-Hai's forehead.  
  
The others gasped at his audacity. Then they smiled. They had not liked the arrogant Uruk-Hai and were glad to see him dead.  
  
Egla Ash quickly assumed control, anything to keep his churning mind away from why he had just killed the Uruk-Hai.  
  
"The Elf shot him," he told them. "We will mourn the passing of one of our brethren."  
  
At first the others looked at him in confusion. Then they laughed.  
  
"Yes! The Elf shot him!" They knew that they would all pay dearly if the truth were ever revealed. It was one thing to kill a regular Orc, but to kill an Uruk-Hai - that was another matter.  
  
"Head back. I will bring the Elf."  
  
The others quickly headed south once more, speaking of how brave Egla Ash was to shoot the Uruk-Hai. They each saluted him before disappearing into the dimness.  
  
Legolas was doubled over on the ground panting for air. His strength was nearly spent as the shaking in his limbs worsened. He saw Egla Ash's feet before him. He sighed and closed his eyes, sob clawing at his raw throat. He was so weary, the poison running rampant within him. His head dropped in defeat, long hair veiling his face.  
  
Egla Ash stared down at him. Why had he spared his life? His mind was a strange confusion of conflicting emotions. There had been a time when he had wanted Legolas dead, his warm blood spurting over Egla Ash's hands. Then he had wanted the Elf to die in long lasting torment. And this very night he wanted to strike him down instantly with the scimitar. He had been an Orc in that moment.  
  
But now.  
  
When the Uruk-Hai had been threatening to end Legolas' life, the Uruk- Hai lay dead at his hands.  
  
The Orc snarled and gnashed his teeth in frustration.  
  
What was wrong with him?! He was an Orc and he would act like one.  
  
"Get up!" He hissed angrily, pulling on the blond hair until the Elf was on his hands and knees. "Get up now!"  
  
Legolas could feel his last strength flowing out of him. Pain flared along his left arm and it would no longer support his weight. He moaned and tucked it against his chest.  
  
"Get up I said!"  
  
Legolas managed to raise his head, vision wavering even more. He didn't think he could stand.  
  
"Get up!"  
  
Egla Ash reached down and grabbed Legolas' left arm.  
  
The Elf cried out at the touch and pitched forward.  
  
Egla Ash felt unwanted concern fill him.  
  
No! This is not what he wanted!  
  
He tightened his grip and yanked Legolas to his feet. But he had lost consciousness and fell into the Orc. He caught the Elf in surprise.  
  
"Get up, you lousy Elf! You can't fool me!" He roared, trying to drown out the voice in his mind that screamed in panic and fear. And loss.  
  
When Legolas didn't respond, Egla Ash lowered him to the ground. The blue eyes were closed, dark bruises surrounding them. The slender pale face was pale and bloody, brilliant spots flaming on his checks; his skin, usually so cool to the touch, burned with fever. The slender throat was darkly bruised. Egla Ash stared down at him in dismay.  
  
Now what was he to do?  
  
His rough fingers touched one cheek.  
  
"Wake up!" He hissed, consternation and concern warred within him. His brows furrowed. The conflict within must cease or he would go mad. He moaned, his two selves struggling for mastery of his soul. He groaned and clenched his fists, hitting the ground.  
  
No! This was not what he wanted! He would not give in. He shook his head, baring his teeth, the agony of his indecision tearing at him.  
  
"No!" He vowed fiercely, calling on all the anger and hatred he had learned in Dol Guldur. He picked up the limp form, shifting him in his arms. He started back to the camp.  
  
  
  
Legolas lay dreaming, but it was not a good dream filled with trees and stars, the voices of loved ones, all the things that calmed him. He was back in Emyn Mor Esgal, trapped in the starless darkness. The Orcs would be coming for him soon. They always came. He tried to think of a song, but his mind seemed filled with a haze of pain and confusion. Pain. .. Orcs excelled at inflicting it. He shuddered, a small moan escaping him. When they returned for him there would be pain again. More pain. Always pain. Suddenly it exploded through him, calling him from the darkness.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Legolas' wounded arm came in contact with Egla Ash's chest he cried out, eyes flying open. Fear was written clearly on his features. But when Egla Ash looked down at him, relief swept over him. A sweet smile touched his lips.  
  
"Egla Ash. nin mellon." [my friend] He raised a shaky hand to touch the Orc's face.  
  
Egla Ash shuddered beneath the tender touch. This was not what he wanted.  
  
Legolas relaxed in his arms, though every step jarred his injuries, causing him to bit at his lips to stop his cries. A flash of silver and green caught his attention. He reached up and opened a fold of the Orc's black cloak. Pinned inside was the oak leaf brooch he had given him years ago. Legolas smiled.  
  
"You kept it," he murmured weakly.  
  
He had kept the brooch with him even in the darkness of Dol Guldur. Some how he had kept it. And it had comforted him despite all the torments and abuse he had suffered.  
  
"I will not forget," he had vowed.  
  
And he had not forgotten.  
  
"I will take them with me into darkness," he had whispered of the glorious stars as he was being led into captivity. "I will not forget. I will not forget, Legolas Elvellon."  
  
Yet he had pushed such things as stars and friendship, hope and love down, trying to smother them with hatred and anger. But he had never gotten rid of the brooch, a symbol of a friendship begun in darkness.  
  
No, he had never truly forgotten.  
  
A smile touched Egla Ash's lips, not a cruel smile at the contemplation of revenge or wicked amusement, but a true smile. He felt a long carried weight lift.  
  
"Of course I kept it," Egla Ash said gently. "You gave it to me." Tears of joy stung in the Orc's blue eyes. Oh, Legolas Elvellon, he thought. Forgive my fall into darkness. I never wanted to hurt you. I am sorry, my friend. Yes. This was indeed what he had wanted all along.  
  
"Sing for me, Egla Ash," Legolas whispered.  
  
"I.I have not sung in a very long time," the Orc said uncomfortably. He had forgotten how to sing beneath the stars. Almost.  
  
"Please."  
  
Egla Ash frowned, but he would sing. He would always sing for Legolas now. The song was his first, born in the darkness along with their friendship. He had struggled with it, for Orcs did not sing.  
  
"Gar estel anann i elenath sila." [Have hope (as) long (as) the stars shine.] He began, his voice rough from many years of not using it for anything but cursing and screaming. It had been so long.too long.  
  
"Ind mor lothron garo le Gil galad ath sila godref. Arad a nain ath or. Estel na tol."  
  
[Though darkness may hold you A star's light will shine through. Days of tears will soon be over. Hope is coming.]  
  
"Your first song," Legolas breathed, gracing the Orc with a beautiful smile. "It is wonderful. Sing it again."  
  
Egla Ash smiled and began once more.  
  
"Blue Eyes! What are you doing?"  
  
Egla Ash looked up in shock. He hadn't heard the Orc approaching them until now. It stood before them, bow clasped loosely in one hand, a quizzical look on its face. Egla Ash cursed himself. He had been heading for the camp without knowing it.  
  
How could I?! He thought, anxiety biting at him. What have I done?!  
  
"What are you doing?" The Orc repeated, eyeing Egla Ash and the Elf in his arms suspiciously.  
  
Egla Ash glanced down at Legolas, uncertainty and renewed fear burned in his friend's eyes.  
  
"The Elf cannot walk," he answered simply, shrugging slightly.  
  
The other Orc frowned, not certain if he could believe him. Then he grunted. "Come on then. They've left already."  
  
Egla Ash looked at Legolas once more.  
  
"Don't worry, Legolas Elvellon," he whispered in Sindarin, moving to follow the departing Orc. "I will try to free you and the others if I can."  
  
It was with heavy steps and heavier heart that he moved south after the band of Orcs heading for Dol Guldur.  
  
  
  
Horus - Well, I haven't killed Legolas.yet. (evil laughter) JastaElf - Plug: Everyone go read JastaElf's stories if you haven't already!! Thanks for reviewing. This chapter's been hard to write. Redemption ain't easy sometimes. Thanks for being Number 50. Never thought I'd get there!! Salak - I love cliffhangers! And I know you do to. Admit it! Your dances really work!!! Thanks a lot!! Irena - Glad that you love this series. I appreciate that. But you'd better uncover your eyes or you'll miss the fun! AJ Matthews - Ack! Here's the next part!! Shinigamio - You are right, my friend. I love to torture you with cliffhangers!! Just call me the Queen of the Cliffies!! long under tree - Like I told Salak and Shinigamio I love cliffhangers! I really do! I like to write them and I like to read them. Anxiety is good. (heh heh) If I run across any more interesting Tolkien tidbits I'll keep you informed. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - not revised  
  
"They camped here," Glavrol said quietly, kneeling by the trees where Cuil, Calenthar, and Lindir had been tied. "They have not been gone very long. It still reeks of Orcs." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.  
  
Meneliell crept to one of the trees. Her slender, delicate fingers touched the bloodstained bark. Tears fell down her face unheeded.  
  
Oh, Lindir, my beloved, she cried silently. Where have they taken you?  
  
She took small comfort in the fact that he was still alive, but it was a cold comfort at best. He may be alive now, but for how much longer? What had they done to him? Her fingers clenched about her bow. They would find him. They had to. She didn't know if she could survive the grief if he were slain.  
  
I promise, Lindir. I will find you.  
  
She forced herself to turn from the tree where her lover's presence emanated from so strongly. As she did so she saw King Thranduil standing on a section of torn, trampled earth, his handsome face filled with anguish.  
  
Some thought him cold hearted and thoughtless, caring for nothing but his jewels, baubles, and wine. But that wasn't true. He loved his sons with a fierceness that had grown since the death of their mother. She knew it tore him to the very heart for Legolas to be taken by Orcs again. When he had been captured twenty-nine years ago-not such a long time for Elves- she had seen the king loose interest in everything that had once brought him such pleasure. Days passed and there had been no sign or word of his son. The Elf king had nearly fallen into despair.  
  
"We will catch them, your Majesty," Tavor said, striding over to his side, his eyes resolute, though pain was present as well. "We are closing in on them. Soon we will have them and Legolas and the others will be with us once more."  
  
The other Elves were speaking their agreement with Tavor's encouraging statement. They had turned to look at him, seeing the tears that had slipped down his fair cheeks. They knew that if they found Legolas dead now, Tavor might not wish to live. He, Brethil and Legolas had been as close as friends could be, teasing and pulling many pranks in earlier days. To see this merry hearted Elf so bereft was heartrending.  
  
Yes, Meneliell thought, the distance was narrowing between them and the group of Orcs. Only she hoped the distance would not be too great.  
  
King Thranduil nodded, tears slipping down his own cheeks.  
  
"We are close, my Warriors." He said, his green eyes full of anger and hard determination. "Soon the Orcs will taste our wrath." His gaze touched Meneliell's for a moment. "Forth, my brave warriors! Our swords are calling for blood!"  
  
They headed out of the Orc's camp, footfalls swift and silent as death.  
  
  
  
Fengbad looked back as Egla Ash finally caught up with them. He was carrying the Elf in his arms. He growled and ran back to meet him.  
  
"What is going on, Blue Eyes?" He snarled, glaring down at the Elf's limp form. "He can't walk. He has been poisoned."  
  
Fengbad snorted and pulled a small flask from his belt, a wicked smile splitting his lips.  
  
"Poisoned, eh. Hold him still."  
  
Egla Ash's eyes widened in horror, for he knew what the vile bottle held and what it would do to Legolas if he drank it.  
  
"I don't think-"  
  
"No. You don't," Fengbad cut him off with a ferocious hiss. He pried open Legolas' lips and forced the flask between his teeth.  
  
The Elf gasped and gagged, but Fengbad clamped his jaws shut roughly, forcing the burning liquid down his throat.  
  
"Set 'im on his feet. He can walk now."  
  
The liquid fire scorched Legolas' insides, making him gasp in pain. Egla Ash gently lowered him to his feet. Mirkwood's prince was surprised that he was able to stand upright. He swayed then clasped his stomach and retched.  
  
"Oh, no, you don't," Fengbad said, clamping his hand over the Elf's lips, bruising his mouth again.  
  
Legolas swallowed at the bitterness that flooded his mouth, sweat beaded his forehead.  
  
"What is good for Orcs is deadly for Elves." It was Tanglinna's voice, his earliest weapons' teacher. He could see the pale haired archer, his eyes silvery blue, handsome face stern. Learning of one's enemy's weaknesses as well as one's own was a serious duty and a lesson best learned early. He had been a good teacher, giving reproofs and praises equally. Now he lay felled by Orc arrows at Beleg Doron. Legolas moaned, his grief filling him anew.  
  
Fengbad smiled, replacing the cork in the flask. He pulled black ropes from his pack and knotted them about Legolas throat and wrists. He held them out to Egla Ash.  
  
"Do not fall behind. Or I will tell them what really happened to the Uruk-Hai," He whispered, smiling, pale yellow green eyes filled with evil delight.  
  
Egla Ash's hands grasped the ropes, his only sign of surprise at this statement. He snarled at his leader, but said nothing.  
  
Fengbad laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Brave move. But it may be your undoing. Keep up. Don't let the Elf drag you down. Move out!" He pushed Egla Ash ahead of him, striking at Legolas back with the short whip as they ran past. He trotted after them laughing and calling for them to travel faster.  
  
Egla Ash ran to the line of his fellows, he managed one quick anguished glance at Legolas, who stumbled after him. He ran past the last bunch of stragglers and along the edge of the group. He slowed when he reached the Orcs who were dragging the other Elves with them. Legolas looked over at his friends whose faces fell when they saw he had been recaptured.  
  
"Are you well, my prince?" Cuil called, only to be cuffed by an Orc at his side. He stumbled but didn't fall.  
  
"I am well, Cuil. Do not fear. All will be well," Legolas called, seeing the angry glares that the other Orcs shot at him and Egla Ash. I hope all will be well, he thought dully. The liquid was indeed keeping him on his feet, filling him with energy. But he knew that once it wore off he would collapse. It seemed to be burning him up inside; he could almost feel the poison moving sluggishly through his blood, sucking greedily at what strength he had.  
  
The three Elves glanced at one another, confusion on their features. How could all be well? Legolas was running along side them, but his eyes looked bruised and his face was still pale and feverish beneath the dried blood. Dark bruises showed over the collar of his green tunic where the Uruk-Hai had tried to strangle him, and blood stained his throat where the ropes were once again cutting into it. Egla Ash wondered, too, if all would be well. What could he truly do against so many. But he would do something. He gazed straight ahead, forehead furrowed in concentration. But after a while he shook his head in anger, baring his fangs. He looked behind him. Legolas head was drooping, he was spending all his energy in staying on his feet. But feeling the Orc's gaze on him he forced himself to look up. He smiled at Egla Ash. The smile so sweet and trusting tore the Orc's heart. What was he to do? They continued on beneath the starlight heading for Dol Guldur.  
  
  
  
It was the sound of screaming that forced Legolas out of the foggy half consciousness that he lay in. Whatever the Orc had given him had worn off sometime ago as they ran though Mirkwood, spurred ahead by the Orcs' whips. Egla Ash had to carry him here when the Orcs decided to take a break. The screaming told him what kind of a break it was. He shuddered as pain reawakened in him. He swallowed in a dry, raw throat and forced his burning eyes open. He heard the heart rending cries of pain again and pushed himself to his elbows instantly regretting it. Pain exploded inside his head and stomach, his very veins felt as though they were on fire. He gasped for breath squeezing his eyes shut, biting his lips.  
  
"Lay still, Legolas Elvellon," a quiet voice said in Sindarin from somewhere nearby. "Don't draw any attention to yourself."  
  
"Who are they torturing?" Legolas whispered, trying to work up the courage to move again. It would be so much easier just to lie still until the pain subsided.  
  
Egla Ash frowned, his blue eyes neutral.  
  
"The young one. He is not as strong as you were."  
  
Legolas forced himself to a sitting position, a grimace on his fair face.  
  
"He is very young," he said, his heart going out to the Elf who was tied to a tree not far away. His clothing was shredded, blood ran down his pale skin, his eyes, usually as bright as polished emeralds were wide with fear and pain.  
  
"Lindir," he whispered, watching horrified as the Orcs continued to lash the writing young Elf with their cruel whips. "I have to help him!"  
  
"No!" Egla Ash quickly knelt beside him. "Fengbad would not hesitate to turn on you."  
  
"Better he turn on me than allow Lindir to endure any more," Legolas pushed to his knees once more.  
  
"Awake is he?"  
  
Egla Ash turned to see his captin standing behind him. The blue-eyed Orc carefully schooled his features to neutrality.  
  
"Good. He can be next." He pulled the flask from his belt once more.  
  
Legolas started, jerking away from the Orc captain.  
  
"No!"  
  
He tried to pull away from Fengbad, but the Orc grasped his hair and shoved him down, his knees pinning the Elf's arms to the ground as he straddled his chest. He pushed the flask between his lips, tipping the burning contents into his mouth.  
  
Legolas gagged as the Orc clasped his hand over his mouth and pinched his throat to make him swallow. Fengbad climbed off him, then laughed.  
  
"Have 'im ready, Blue Eyes. When that wears off he'll be dead."  
  
"What do you mean?" Egla Ash asked.  
  
Fengbad laughed again.  
  
"As you know its good for Orcs, gives us greater endurance. But it is poison to Elves. It'll kill 'im. He's strong or the first swig would've done 'im in. Have 'im ready."  
  
As Fengbad walked away, feeling immensely satisfied by the stunned look on Blue Eyes face, Egla Ash moved to kneel by Legolas.  
  
"Legolas Elvellon," he whispered, gently cupping his friend's face.  
  
"I am fine. Do not worry," Legolas told him, touched by the concern he saw in the other's eyes. He forced a smile to his lips, though he knew beyond a doubt that it was killing him. It was like a fire out of control, eating away at him, the pain was worsening and though the drink had given him a temporary feeling of strength, he knew that it would not last long and then it would make him pay for the respite from his weakness. If he weren't Healed soon he would indeed die. His eyes scanned the area where they were resting; looking for any plant that might give him even slight relief. Lindir cried out again, calling him away from his own concern.  
  
I have to do something, he thought. But he didn't know what that was.  
  
But suddenly there was a shriek of such rage and pain that both he and Egla Ash started.  
  
Gollum had managed to slip from his ropes and leaped toward Lindir.  
  
He had been sitting quietly when the torture of his Elf began, worrying at his ropes and muttering to himself. But since he did that constantly the Orcs no longer paid any attention to it. When Gollum had managed to ease the ropes from his neck and wrists, he held them quietly waiting for the right moment. The Orcs were engrossed in their sport and not even his guard was paying much attention to the little creature. "They are hurting him, my precious," he whispered, clutching his ropes tightly. "We will make them stop. We will." He imagined his long fingers digging into the Orcs' throats, cutting off their breath forever. He moaned, seeing Lindir's torment. But then Gollum was moving. Springing away from his guard and leaping onto the back of the Orc that was beating the Elf. The Orcs were taken by surprise to see the pitiful wretch attacking one of their own. But then they found it amusing and began cheering him on. All the Orcs gathered about Gollum and the furious Orc to whose back he clung, the strong dexterous fingers digging into the soft flesh of the Orc's throat.  
  
In the ensuing confusion Legolas turned to Egla Ash.  
  
"Try and free Calenthar and Cuil," he whispered hurriedly. "Perhaps they can escape without much notice."  
  
"But what about you?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. Please, Egla Ash. Try and free them."  
  
Egla Ash frowned but moved slowly about the edge of the circle of Orcs, acting as if he were enjoying the spectacle himself. He slipped behind the tree where Calenthar was bound.  
  
"Be still," he hissed, drawing a dagger to slice through the ropes.  
  
Calenthar and Cuil exchanged startled glances as Calenthar was freed. Egla Ash slipped the dagger into the Elf's hands and then he moved back toward the Orcs. Calenthar quickly sliced his friend's bonds. They were free. But then, before they had a chance to decide on a course of action, the air was filled with arrows: Elvish arrows.  
  
Several Orcs went down, slim arrows jutting from their bodies. Calenthar moved quickly to free Lindir, who fell to his knees then tried to push himself up. An Orc seeing their prisoners freed, grabbed up a scimitar and rushed toward the wounded Lindir. But before he could strike his deadly blow and arrow pierced him in the back, followed quickly by one in his neck. He fell, just a few feet from his intended prey. Meneliell ran from the brush where she had hidden, rushing to her fallen lover's side, her bow tossed to one side.  
  
"Oh, Lindir," she murmured. "My love. Speak to me."  
  
Lindir gazed up at her, confusion on his face.  
  
"Meneliell?" He whispered, raising a shaking hand to push back the hood that shrouded her face.  
  
Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she gently touched his bruised face.  
  
"Your hair." He murmured, touching the shorn locks. He smiled up at her, stunned by her courage and loyalty. "You came after me?"  
  
"How could I not. I love you, Lindir. Le nin cuil." [You (are) my life.] She bent her head to capture his lips in a tender kiss.  
  
Fengbad was screaming orders, not yet noticing that three of his prisoners were missing. He turned to see Blue Eyes pulling his Elf to his feet to help him into the cover of the trees.  
  
"Blue Eyes!" He screamed, grabbing a bow. He knew that the blue-eyed Orc would mean trouble. He had always known it. They had warned him. He fitted an arrow onto the string, but just as he was about to loose it an arrow struck him in the chest. He stared down at it dumb founded. But he had no time to think of what it meant for another followed it, striking him in the eye. He fell to the ground dead.  
  
Chaos ensued among the Orcs seeing their leader fallen. They ran, scattering into the trees. Some of Thranduil's Elves followed after them, but Thranduil was immediately rushing to his son's side. Egla Ash backed slowly away.  
  
"Nin ion,." [My son,] he breathed, bending to take Legolas into his embrace, tears spilling over his cheeks and into Legolas' hair. "Nin ion." [My son.]  
  
Legolas' arms held his father in a hug, pushing his face to his father's chest.  
  
Thranduil smelled of flowers and fresh air as he always did. Legolas' tears wet his tunic.  
  
Thranduil held him at arm's length, studying his pale face.  
  
"Are you well?" He asked, concern flooding him as he noted his son's appearance. Legolas didn't answer. He tried to smile, but then he remembered Egla Ash.  
  
"Father, you can't let them kill Egla Ash. He helped us. Please, don't let them kill him!"  
  
Thranduil looked at him for a moment, his feelings at war. Then he nodded. He could deny Legolas nothing in this moment. He stood and gave the order for the blue-eyed Orc to be spared and brought to him. He then knelt once more. He touched the pale face, his eyes taking in the bruises and blood.  
  
"You're alive," he said quietly, as if he thought that he might be dreaming. "You are alive."  
  
Legolas dropped his gaze. How much longer would he be alive if what he feared were true?  
  
"Do you have a Healer with you, Father?" He asked, his eyes scanning the Elves who were gathering about them.  
  
"Yes. Nestadren, come here."  
  
The slender Elf Healer hurried to the king's side. He had treated Lindir's wounds with much help from Meneliell whose presence had shocked him. The lass was certainly audacious and brave. Lindir's wounds weren't as bad as he had feared and Cuil and Calenthar had only superficial wounds that had needed little tending. They had been fortunate. But when he knelt before the prince, his eyes widened with concern.  
  
"He has been poisoned," he gasped, his hand going to the wound on Legolas' left arm. "But I think that this wound alone could make you this ill. Not this quickly." He dug into his Healer's pouch, pulling out carefully wrapped packets of herbs and ointments.  
  
"No. There was this."  
  
Thranduil and Nestadren looked up at the sound of the deep gruff voice. Egla Ash stood behind them, holding out the Fengbad's flask. The Elf Healer stared up at the Orc in amazement and fear, but then slowly took the leather bound flask from him. He sniffed it then looked at the Orc once more.  
  
"What exactly was in this?" He asked, feeling very strange talking to an Orc like this.  
  
As Egla Ash told him what was brewed into the Orcs' strengthening drink, the Elven Healer paled, unable to keep the horror from his face.  
  
Thranduil stared at the Healer. Healers never let their own fear show on their faces regardless of what news they must tell those they treated.  
  
"What is it, Nestadren?" He asked, clasping the others arm, his eyes usually so carefully guarded were filled with dread.  
  
Nestadren turned to face his king, his amethyst eyes dark.  
  
"I will need to get him back as quickly as possible," he said, quickly mixing some herbs together, grinding them into a powder. He ran to place a small copper bowl over the Orcs' fire using his magic to boost its heat so the water was soon boiling. He dumped the herbs into the water, passing his hand over the fragrant mixture and murmuring Healing words over them.  
  
Thranduil looked down at his son, forcing his features to calmness. He would not show his son how much fear was eating through his very soul.  
  
"Everything will be well," he said, trying to reassure himself as much as Legolas.  
  
Legolas nodded, glancing up at Egla Ash.  
  
"He did try to save us, Father," he said, reaching out to grasp the Orc's hand. "Please, don't do anything to hurt him. He is my friend."  
  
Thranduil's warring emotions showed plainly. Orcs were evil. They had been breed in torment and pain and could give nothing but torment and pain. His own beloved wife Brennillas had suffered much at their hands, dying of her wounds and sorrow leaving him and their three sons alone. But he could see that Legolas cared for this Orc and he himself had seen him cut Calenthar and Cuil free and then move to help Legolas away from the fighting. Much sorrow had come from his earlier decision to have the Orc slain all those years ago. Slowly his hands, which had been clenched on his green tunic, relaxed.  
  
"Very well." He began looking up into the unusual blue eyes, the same color as his son's.and Brennillas'. "You may live here in Mirkwood for as long as you wish. And no one will harm you."  
  
The other Elves stared at their king in amazement, not all of them happy about this decision, but willing to live with it. A smile graced Legolas face and Thranduil was glad of his decision merely for that smile. But then the prince gasped as more pain assailed him. Thranduil grasped his hand, stroking the furrowed brow. He could see his youngest son shaking, small noises of pain escaping him.  
  
"Ai! Ai! It burns," he whispered, clutching at his father's and Egla Ash's hands. "It burns like a fire inside me. I can feel it killing me!" He gasped once more, doubling up in pain.  
  
Nestadren hastily knelt at Legolas side, bearing a cup with his medicine in it.  
  
"Drink this, my prince. It will slow the poison down and put you to sleep. When we arrive home I will be able to help you." I hope, he thought, trying not to let his uncertainty show as he had earlier.  
  
Legolas took the cup, but his hands were trembling so that Nestadren had to help him hold it. Together they raised it to his lips and he drained it. It didn't taste nearly as bad as what the Orcs' had forced down his throat. He felt the liquid glide down inside him, cooling the burning heat of the poison that worked its way through him. He felt a great weariness stealing over him. He smiled up at his father and Egla Ash.  
  
"Thank you," he murmured to them both. Then he drifted into sleep.  
  
Nestadren packed his things into his pouch then bent to pick up his sleeping patient.  
  
"I will carry him."  
  
Thranduil and the Healer looked over at the Orc. Thranduil hesitated thennodded, taking Legolas' hand in his own and raising it to his lips kissed it. Egla Ash bent and easily lifted the sleeping Elf.  
  
"We must hurry." Nestadren said. "If he is to live, we must hurry."  
  
Egla Ash nodded then followed the Healer away from the Orc camp. The two trotted down the pathway both fearing that they would not make it back in time.  
  
"Don't leave me, Legolas Elvellon," Egla Ash whispered great fear and dread shuddering through him. "Don't leave me alone again."  
  
  
  
*Note: No, I have not forgotten about Smeagol.  
  
Response to Reviewers JastaElf - I'm glad that you liked the last one. It was a hard chapter to write. I seesawed a lot. It was a war for Egla Ash's soul and for myself. Egla Ash says thank you for calling him a Uber Orc! And Leggy does have guts thought I do sometimes tend to wimp him out. Thanks for the plugs! Everyone go R/R JastaElf's two-yes, two- stories! They are wonderful!! AJ Matthews - I hope Egla Ash can save Legolas and the others. I'm working on it. It ain't easy! (haha) Horus - Well, I can't 'save' Gollum since Master Tolkien decreed his fate long ago. I will stick with the book on that one. He may yet have some part to play as a certain Istari seems to think. But I am working on getting the others freed. Shinigamio - No cliffhangers last time around. Believe me it was enough of a cliffhanger chapter for me" Do I, don't I, do I, don't I. But I needed to resolve the conflict with Legolas and Egla Ash. And I am glad that everyone seems to like the decision that I finally made. Salak - Your dances are perfection!! And no I couldn't leave my dearest Egla Ash evil forever. I thought about it, but I couldn't do it. Egla Ash loves your dances, too!! And I guess that allIwantisanElf forchristmas wants to learn it now, too. long under tree - I know it took forever to bring Egla Ash out of his darkness and I wasn't sure I wanted to. And as for the cliffhangers -well, I don't know if I can squeak out anymore in this one or not. Have fun at camp!! allIwantisanElfforchristmas - I am so glad that you've found me! And a big thanks for reading both of my old ones!! Wow! Salak would be glad to teach you the Write Faster Dance I'm sure. She's very good at it!! The end is in sight, but no, we're not quite there yet. And thanks for the chocolate Leggy! There's nothing better!! 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - not revised  
  
Thranduil watched as Nestadren and the Orc Egla Ash carried Legolas away. The Elf king's heart was aching and he wanted to follow them, but his job here was not yet finished. He turned back to see the rest of his people gathering arrows and helping the wounded. He strode over to Lindir who was embraced in another's arms.  
  
"Lindir?"  
  
The young Elf looked up at his king. He shakily rose to his feet, leaning heavily on the Elf at his side.  
  
"Your Majesty, I -"  
  
Thranduil waved a slender hand.  
  
"Do not stand on formalities. How do you fare?" He took in the youth's pale skin, marred by cuts and dark bruises.  
  
"I am well, your Majesty. Truly, I am glad to see you." He smiled, all the fear and agony of the past night slowly leaving him, now that he was safe.  
  
"And I am glad to see you," Thranduil said, smiling, and clasping the younger Elf's arm. This one's lightheartedness and innocence reminded him of one who had died this night. Even as he grieved the one lost, he hoped this one would mayhap be able to help his son deal with his own pain at the same loss. He then turned to the one beside him. "Who is this brave young one?"  
  
Meneliell stood with her head down, eyes on the ground. She feared what the king would say when he knew her secret. Her face burned and her hands clenched into fists.  
  
Thranduil gently tipped back her chin. He gasped as she raised her flawless sapphire eyes to him.  
  
"Your Majesty, she - " Lindir began, glancing uneasily from his king to his lover.  
  
"Nay. I see," Thranduil studied her features for a moment. So brave, he thought, to follow us here to save her lover. Very brave indeed. He smiled gently, cupping her face tenderly. Then he bent and kissed her forehead. His own beloved Brennillas had been thus. He could see her in his mind, her fair skin glowing like finest porcelain; her eyes deep sapphire, as bright as any of his jewels; her long pale hair unbound and flowing about her like a mantle of spun gold. "I count it fortunate to have one so fair amongst my warriors this night."  
  
Meneliell smiled, a rose blush painting her cheeks. She turned to gaze at Lindir who smiled down into her eyes.  
  
Thranduil left them with a smile of amusement tugging at his lips. Then he moved to Calenthar and Cuil. After assuring himself that they were unharmed, he turned to one of his guards.  
  
"The creature that Mithrandir brought us, where is he?"  
  
The guard looked uncomfortable.  
  
"We have seen naught of him since the fighting began. I fear we have lost him."  
  
"You and some of the others must go after him. It would not do for us to loose him now. He cannot be far away."  
  
The Elf nodded and rounded up several others and they disappeared into the dark woods seeking for Smeagol's tracks.  
  
"If they find Smeagol, your Majesty, please do not be overly harsh with him."  
  
Thranduil turned to see Cuil and Calenthar flanking Lindir and Meneliell.  
  
"He tried to save me, your Majesty." Lindir said, his arm about Meneliell's slim shoulders. "He is truly not as bad as we had thought."  
  
Thranduil disagreed with the young Elf's sentiments, but the king was good and wise and said nothing. He nodded and sighed.  
  
"Very well. I will keep that in mind if they do find him. But now my heart flies home to Legolas. Let us leave this place. The others are seeking the creature and they will find him. if he may be found."  
  
Together the remaining Elves turned northwest, following the path taken not long ago by the Healer and the Orc, bearing their cherished burden.  
  
  
  
Smeagol had dropped from the Orc's back as soon as the first arrow had struck. He had seen the Elven archers emerge from the undergrowth arrows flying from slender bows, jewel bright eyes glowing with anger. He glanced at Lindir who was being loosed by one of the others. He would be fine now that the Elves were coming to rescue them. Smeagol raised his hand to the Elf in farewell, seeing another Elf kneel by him, touching him kindly. Loneliness bit at the creature and he felt a moment's sadness, then he sprinted into the trees and took to the branches, working swiftly away from the battle, his hands and feet grasping the stout branches easily. Soon he was far away and even the sounds of sword clashes and cries of agony or victory receded. But he didn't stop. He kept moving. Ever westward. Always west. The precious was calling him to come west. It was waiting for him. The precious was waiting for him to come and reclaim it.  
  
"We are coming, my precious. We will be there soon." He paused only once to glance behind him. "Good-bye starry Elf," he called raising his hand once more. Then he vanished from sight.  
  
  
  
Nestadren's amethyst eyes traveled to the Elven prince in the Orc's arms. He was breathing laboriously, his skin burning with fever. The Healer feared that they would not make it in time. He and the Orc had sped away from the others and continued on through the rest of the night and into the dawning day. Egla Ash gazed skyward, dreading the paling in the dark sky above. He had to make it. He could not fail Legolas now. It had been a long night and they were still many hours away from their destination, Gladaran Thamas: the Wood King's Hall. The Healer could see the Orc was weakening as the sun rose. He hated to loose the precious time, but he slowed to a halt.  
  
"If you use this," He said holding out the vile flask. "Can you make it?"  
  
Egla Ash looked at the small bottle that had held death for Elves. He nodded. Gently he knelt and lay Legolas on the ground and drank from the bottle. He felt strength suffuse him. He stretched then bent and picked up the Elven prince once more.  
  
"I will get you there, Legolas Elvellon," he promised, staring down into the flushed face of his friend. "I will not fail you." He wanted to sing to Legolas, but wasn't certain how the other Elf would feel. He knew that his voice was not lovely, but he could not help but think that it would help somehow if he sang. He glanced over at the Healer, trying to work up the courage to ask permission.  
  
Nestadren feeling the Orc's intense stare turned to him.  
  
"Is aught wrong, uh, Master Orc?"  
  
Egla Ash smiled. Master Orc indeed.  
  
"No. I was wondering if perhaps..If I might.If I might sing to Legolas."  
  
The Healer's brows rose in surprise.  
  
"You.You want to sing?" Nestadren asked. He had of course heard all about Prince Legolas' singing Orc. He hadn't believed it at first, thought that it was a joke concocted by Legolas, Brethil and Tavor. It was just the sort of thing they would do. But here beside him was the singing Orc. He found himself wondering what sort of singing voices Orcs had. He smiled tightly. "Perhaps that would be good," he said at last.  
  
Egla Ash smiled. The Elf wanted him to sing.  
  
"I menel gael ah i Anor erui moe echui Canui ed i aewen celeb aerlinn. I menel panna ath aglareb galad. Echui an i minuial."  
  
[The sky glimmering with the sun's first soft light Calling forth the birds' silver songs. The heavens are filled with glorious light. Awaken to the dawn.]  
  
Nestadren listened to the deep, somewhat grating voice. It was not beautiful, but was so full of earnestness and soorrow that the Healer found himself entranced by it. It was a beautiful song, one worthy of the Elves. He was pleasantly surprised.  
  
"Will you teach that song to me, uh."  
  
"My name is Egla Ash."  
  
The Healer tipped his head.  
  
"I am Nestadren. Will you teach it to me, Egla Ash?"  
  
"I would be honored to, Nestadren."  
  
The two continued onto Gladaran Thamas delighted with one another's company. Their voices rising in the morning air helping to lighten hearts weighted down with care and fear.  
  
  
  
Legolas was trapped in his dreams once more. Voices and images plagued his tormented mind. Pain.always pain. And darkness.  
  
"Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor.dae a mor." [I have fallen into shadow and darkness.shadow and darkness.]  
  
For him shadow and darkness was Emyn Mor Esgal. He had been shut away for only a week in the never-ending darkness beneath the Dark Hiding Hills: a week, not much time at all, but a week without the stars or light of the moon; a week away from everything that he loved and held dear. He had been certain that he would die there, locked in the darkness forever.  
  
Dae a mor. [Shadow and darkness.]  
  
There had been only one bright glimmer of light in that all encompassing gloom: Egla Ash, his blue eyes so sweet.  
  
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila." [Have hope as long as the stars shine.] But there had been another darkness, a greater darkness that had swallowed the Orc: "Dag enni! Dag enni, Legolas Elvellon!" [Slay me! Slay me, Legolas my friend!]  
  
Arrows went astray in the night and he had been lost to Dol Guldur.  
  
This had given flight to the black arrow of death.  
  
"I morn gothfeng ned gurth ath maeg le." [The black arrow of death will pierce you.]  
  
All was shadow. shadow and darkness.  
  
Brethil, Tanglinna, and Meren all dead, their blood staining the ground beneath Beleg Doron.  
  
"Daw na o an gar le an pan lu." [Night is about to hold you for all time.]  
  
Lindir, Cuil, and Calenthar taken by Orcs.  
  
"I elenath al-ath sila erin le." [The stars will not shine on you.]  
  
And the black arrow had taken flight.  
  
"Lothron le gar naeg le gwanna na I cam ned mellon." [May you have pain as you die at the hands of a friend.]  
  
All is shadow and darkness.  
  
Legolas whimpered as the dark dreams haunted him.  
  
So much pain.so much .  
  
  
  
Nestadren glanced over at his prince, who was moaning slightly. They were not going to make it. Egla Ash's face wore an expression of deepest fear and sorrow. The two hurried their pace, neither one speaking, feeling that speech would some how give life to their fears.  
  
"Naeg.naeg." [Pain..pain.]  
  
"Legolas Elvellon!" The Orc moaned clasping the burning body closer to him. What was he to do? He could not let Legolas die. If the Elf should succumb to the death, he himself would not want to live. "Please stay with me," he whispered, tears falling from his cheeks to wet Legolas' face. "Please don't leave me."  
  
Nestadren was amazed by the emotion displayed by the Orc. Orcs were vile, evil beasts that felt nothing good or redeeming. Yet this Orc clearly did.  
  
Legolas shuddered, drawing a painful breath.  
  
"I mor na ordaeth enni." [The darkness is overshadowing me."]  
  
Egla Ash gave the Healer an anguished look. There had to be something they could do. He raised his eyes to the morning sky.  
  
"Elbereth, help us. Don't let him be taken into shadow!" He cried aloud, tears flowing freely. As he lowered his head, something tugged at the back of his mind. Something here was familiar. He looked about. The trees were tall and beautiful in the light of the sun. They didn't glimmer as they did at night beneath the stars, but shone with a clean pure light. Glimmer.glimmer.  
  
Egla Ash gasped. They were near Gael Dor. He turned to the Healer. If everything that he had felt about his home were true, perhaps the Healer could help Legolas there. Hurriedly he told the Nestadren of the clearing in Mirkwood, where he and the Rangers had taken Legolas all those years before. It was a place of peace he knew. Perhaps of healing.  
  
Nestadren knew immediately of the place he meant, though the Healer hadn't been there in some time. He knew that the place held a special magic, but was it a magic he could draw on to heal the dreadful poison that was killing his prince? He fervently hoped so, for he feared that Legolas would be dead before they could reach Gladaran Thamas. They were still too far. He nodded and they headed toward Egla Ash's Glimmering Place.  
  
  
  
The ring of huge trees spreading their green leaves in the summer sunlight welcomed the three travelers. Egla Ash knelt in the center of the clearing, gently laying Legolas down on the fragrant grass that was studded with tiny blue, white and yellow flowers. He smoothed back the ruffled blonde hair and stroked the fevered brow.  
  
"I mor.I mor." [The darkness.the darkness.]  
  
"Shh, Legolas Elvellon. You will be well. You have to be well." The Orc watched as Nestadren exclaimed with delight as he cut an athelas plant. He hurried over to them.  
  
"Fresh is best," he murmured, smiling wryly as he repeated one of the first lessons in herbs. He quickly had a small fire going, and the plants boiling over it in his small pot. The fresh cleansing fragrance filled the clearing. Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope after all.  
  
Egla Ash found some of his worries leaving him and he allowed himself a small smile. He held one of Legolas' hands in his own, stroking the smooth, pale skin. They eased him up and pulled the tunic off, followed by the blood drenched shirt. He watched quietly as the Healer applied some of the mixture directly to the wound on Legolas' arm and then bandaged it tightly. The unconsieous Elf gasped and arched his back, crying out slightly. Egla Ash felt his heart ache as Nestadren then placed some of it into a bandage and wrapped it tightly about his chest and back, covering the wounds made by morn gothfeng, his black arrow.  
  
I did that, he thought, tears spilling from his eyes. I did that. Please forgive me, nin mellon.  
  
"Help me get this into him, Egla Ash."  
  
The Orc leaned the Elf against his chest as the Healer poured some of the cooling water between Legolas lips.  
  
"No!" Legolas moaned, caught in his dream. Fengbad's leering face filled his mind. The Orc captain raised the flask to his lips. "No!"  
  
Egla Ash wrapped his arms gently about the struggling Elf. Finally the Healer managed to get some down his throat.  
  
Nestadren drew a deep breath and looked into the Orc's eyes, then placed his hands on Legolas' chest. He concentrated all his healing power on the prince. Egla Ash watched as the Healer's hands seemed to be wrapped in light, a shining orb glowed about them. He saw beads of sweat dot his brow. The Healing was hard on both the Elves. Legolas moaned again and Egla Ash could feel him shuddering as the poison warred with the Healer over his body.  
  
"Come back to me, Legolas Elvellon. Please don't leave. Valmet tir i elenath eria godref." [We will watch the stars rise together.]  
  
Nestadren's brow furrowed in concentration.  
  
"Elbereth aid me! Don't let me loose him," he murmured. He gasped for breath, then opened his eyes, not removing his hands from Legolas. "Sing to him, Egla Ash. Call him back from the darkness. Please help me."  
  
Egla Ash's mind seemed to go blank. He could think of no songs. Tears stung his eyes. He must think of something for his friend. Even when he himself had been caught in the darkness Legolas had remained true to him. He had been faithful. Sador Mellon. Faithful Friend. The words seemed to flood his brain and he sang of his friend and of their friendship, of all the hardships suffered and barriers overcome. He sang of the love they held for one another, even in the darkest of times. He sang of the hope that had come to them both. He sang for his friend.  
  
Sador Mellon.*  
  
* Note - Sador Mellon is the song Legolas sang in "Hope While the Stars Shine" when the Fellowship was sitting outside Moria waiting for Gandalf to open the doors.  
  
Response to Reviewers  
  
JastaElf - Your heart was breaking ?! You broke me with chapter 3 of your second fic. Plug: Go read JastaElf's stories! Just be warned. Chapter 3 of #2 is a painful painful chapter. Glad that you thought this was wonderful! AJ Matthews - Everything is getting better. Don't worry. Have hope! Horus - Leggy is getting better. Have hope! I am repeating myself again. Sorry. Salak - You are now a wonderful dance instructor as well as a superb dancer!! (applause from me and Egla Ash (he gives you a standing ovation!)) Ayod - Thanks for R/R "Hope While the Stars Shine". That was kewl of you!! Jan - I'm glad that you are feeling better. It broke my heart, too. And I like Gollum, so he can't be all bad, can he? Warm fuzzies!! Shinigamio - I'm glad that you are feeling somewhat better. Never fear, hope is here! And thanks for telling me that it was a great chapter, I wasn't too sure about it. alliwantisanelfforchristmas -I love writing to my reviewers! You are a good dance student. I am sure that Salak is very proud of you! I know we (Egla Ash and I) are!! Actually he ate the head off Legolas first. Yikes!! long under tree - Thranduil is not such a bad guy. I really kinda like him! And as to Egla Ash living with the Elves.That's the next story, though maybe not what you think. (heh heh) And be warned, nin mellon, there is some Elvish in this chapter! Sorry, but I couldn't resist. And ta da! Plug: Go read long under tree's story. It is great! (even if she is slow to post!) haha!! 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - not revised  
  
King Thranduil of Mirkwood came upon Gael Dor just as the first stars were lighting the sky. They were traveling slowly to accommodate Lindir who, though healing was still sore and stiff from the brutality of the Orcs.  
  
Tavor, who had been scouting ahead, came running back to say he had seen firelight in the clearing not far ahead. The Elves tensed fearing more Orcs, so Tavor, Thranduil, and a handful of others moved cautiously toward the Glimmering Place, bows held at ready.  
  
Then they heard the voices. One was deep and gravelly. The other was fair and light, obviously an Elf's.  
  
"That is Nestadren's voice." Aradoltha said, glancing at the others, worry darkening his grey eyes.  
  
"Nestadren?" Thranduil hurried toward the clearing.  
  
Tavor felt pain lance his heart. He could not bear to loose another friend this night. He felt more tears burn across his grey eyes and he moved quickly after the king, breathing a prayer.  
  
Indeed it was Nestadren and the Orc Egla Ash. They were seated in the grass with their backs to the other Elves.  
  
"No." The Elf king breathed. There could only be one reason why they had stopped here and not continued on to Gladaran Thamas. "Legolas!" He rushed forward, tears blurring his vision.  
  
Nestadren looked around in surprise as the king stumbled toward them.  
  
"Your Majesty, I -" He stood hastily seeing the stricken look on Thranduil's face, the forest green eyes anguished.  
  
Thranduil ignored the Healer, looking down at the sight before him. Egla Ash still cradled Legolas against his chest. The Orc looked up, his blue eyes full of unshed tears.  
  
Thranduil dropped to his knees beside them. He reached out a trembling hand and touched his son's face.  
  
Tavor moved to stand behind Thranduil, staring down at Legolas.  
  
"No," he murmured, the hand on his bow shaking. "No!"  
  
"Is he." Thranduil whispered, his voice close to breaking as he gently stroked the soft blonde hair.  
  
Nestadren knelt beside his king, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"He is sleeping." He murmured, his eyes serene and kindly as he looked down on the prince.  
  
"Sleeping? Then he is not." Relief swept through Mirkwood's king. He raised one slim hand to his lips. "Oh, my son." He breathed onto it. "My son." Tears dripped like soft caresses onto their entwined fingers.  
  
Tavor's knees nearly buckled in relief. He sank into the grass, reaching out to touch Legolas' blood splattered hair. Tears of relief streamed down his face, but he didn't notice them.  
  
Egla Ash smiled over at Nestadren. The Healer's face lit with happiness. He had been unable to save Brenillass, but he had been able to save her last child. Tears fell unabashedly from his eyes. What the Orc had said about this place - about Gael Dor - was true. There was a deep magic here, a healing magic. The Orc was indeed unique and a wonder. Nestadren found an unusual thought flitting through his mind. What if the Orc were a Healer? Then he smiled and laughed slightly. Ridiculous.  
  
By now the others had wandered into the clearing, staring at the king kneeling by his son. They came to stand behind him, faces full of concern.  
  
Thranduil lifted his face and smiled up at them.  
  
"He lives," he said, his voice now breaking with joy. "My son lives!"  
  
The others all cried with delight and relief and their fair Elvish voices burst into laughter. Tavor raised his eyes meeting the Orc's.  
  
"I am pleased to meet you, Egla Ash." he said, hesitantly touching the Orc's hand that was still wrapped protectively about Legolas. "I am Tavor. I want to thank you for what you have done for Legolas. He is my friend, too. And I hope.I hope that we will be friends also."  
  
Egla Ash stared at the tall Elf in surprise, though he was no more surprised at this turn of events than Tavor himself. If Orc's could blush he would have done so.  
  
"I am honored, Tavor," he said, quietly, suddenly aware of all the bright, shining jewel toned eyes on him. Then the others were offering their friendship as well. The Elves all smiled, seeing the tears of happiness in the Orc's eyes. They noted how blue they were, so like Legolas' and so like Queen Brenillass' had been.  
  
"We will stay here for the night," Thranduil announced without releasing his son's hand. "Aradoltha, go and fetch the others. Tell them that all is well." He settled himself more comfortably on the ground and turned to Nestadren. "I don't know how to thank you for this."  
  
Nestadren smiled and shrugged.  
  
"I did not do it alone," he said, looking to the Orc who still looked stunned by the warmth of feeling that filled him. Acceptance by the Elves was everything that he could ever have dreamed of. "Egla Ash helped. My skills may have helped the prince's physical body, but it was Egla Ash's songs that called him back from the darkness that was drowning him."  
  
Again the musical murmur of happy voices filled the clearing and Egla Ash bowed his head, unused to all the attention they were giving him. The Forsaken One felt forsaken no longer.  
  
  
  
The air was filled with joyous song that night as the Elves of Gladaran Thamas sat around a small fire beneath the stars. All that had been taken by the Orcs were well and healing. There was much call for rejoicing and celebration. Only one thing marred their festive mood. Smeagol was nowhere to be found. Thranduil vowed that they would not give up the search. There would be some sign of him sooner or later.  
  
The next morning they journeyed back to the Elves' home in northeastern Mirkwood. There was much celebration at their arrival. Legolas was taken home to rest and recover and Lindir and Meneliell disappeared into the seclusion of the nearby wood, Lindir obviously recovered from his ordeal. A new search party was formed to continue the hunt for Smeagol and sent back into the forest.  
  
Egla Ash spent the days in Legolas room, waiting for the prince to awaken from his healing sleep, which, according to Nestadren might last for several days. At night he wandered the streets and reveled in the sights and sounds about him. He was welcomed by most of the Elves, though some found it hard to see the Orc as anything but an Orc. But Egla Ash was so happy he barely noticed. He spent much time with Tavor hearing some of the amusing tales about he, Legolas and one named Brethil. He planned to return to Gael Dor and make it his home once more. But until Legolas awoke he lived with the Elves of Mirkwood as an honored guest.  
  
  
  
Legolas slept for days just as Nestadren had said. His dreams were mostly of the things that Elves dream of, bringing them happiness and rest. But occasionally they were troubled and dark, causing him to call out in his sleep. Always Egla Ash was there to sing to him, soothing him.  
  
On the last day of Norui [June] he felt his healing sleep receding. The first thing he became aware of was the sound of birds' song and then the smell of sweet blossoms. He smiled and drew a deep breath, relieved when there was no pain. Slowly he focused his eyes and blinked. The sun flooded his bedroom, bathing the pale green walls with the golden light of summer. The delicate trees outside cast delicate shadows of darker green and a spill of pale blossoms peered in the window. His smile widened as a small bird lit on the windowsill and began to sing. He turned his head to the right and saw Egla Ash seated there, his eyes closed in slumber, one hand wrapped about the prince's. He turned to the left and saw Thranduil, his eyes open, but not in wakefulness. He slumbered as well. His hand was gently clasping Legolas' other hand.  
  
"I must be dreaming still," he murmured, staring from one to the other in confusion. "I am dreaming. How could this be happening otherwise?"  
  
At the sound of his voice both Thranduil and Egla Ash started from sleep.  
  
"Legolas!" They both cried, fingers tightening on both his hands.  
  
"I'm not dreaming?" He asked, his eyes filling with hope. "Truly, I am not?"  
  
"No, nin ion [my son]. You dream not. You are safe and well."  
  
"Then you are really both here? Together?"  
  
Thranduil and Egla Ash gazed across Legolas at one another and smiled.  
  
"Aye. We are both here - together." Thranduil answered, his free hand caressing his son's brow. The long blonde hair had been gathered into a single braid and lay draped across his shoulder.  
  
"But.But I am dreaming then." Legolas murmured, still looking confused.  
  
"Nay, nin mellon. You are awake at last, though you have wandered long in your dreams."  
  
Legolas watched with astonishment as his father and the Orc exchanged amused glances. He could feel their hands on his, hear the bird singing its heart out on the sill. The scent of flowers mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread, causing his stomach to growl. He laughed in delight. He was not dreaming. They were truly here together.  
  
"Are you hungry, Legolas Elvellon?" Egla Ash asked.  
  
"Yes. I am."  
  
Egla Ash started to rise, but Thranduil motioned him to remain seated. The king called for someone to bring the prince something to eat.  
  
"How did this happen?" Legolas asked, easing into a sitting position.  
  
"It is a long story, but one that you will enjoy hearing no doubt. I will let your friend tell you."  
  
Egla Ash smiled over at the Elf prince and began to tell the tale of all that had befallen them since that night in the Orc camp. Thranduil interjected comments, amusing his son even more as the two stumbled over words in their haste to tell him everything.  
  
Legolas listened with delight, his heart lighter than it had been for some time. He devoured the bread, cheese, and fruit that were brought to him on a carved wooden platter.  
  
Thranduil watched his son with joy. Having come so close to losing him he couldn't seem to let him out of his sight.  
  
Later that evening Egla Ash accompanied Legolas outside. The Elven prince lifted his fair face to the stars, smiling. He raised his hands in delight and joy. Then he turned to the Orc.  
  
"Thank you for saving me," he said, his blue eyes filled with happiness. Then suddenly he embraced the Orc.  
  
Egla Ash gasped at the sheer pleasure of the gesture. He had never been hugged before. Hesitantly he returned the embrace. Legolas laughed.  
  
"Come with me," he said. "There is something that I want to show you."  
  
Egla Ash followed his friend down a path and toward a glade where water splashed happily, mingling with the quiet sound of toads and crickets. To the Orc's surprise the entire Elven community of Gladaran Thamas was there. King Thranduil was standing at the far end, his face stern, his head encircled by a twisting silver circlet of oak leaves, his robes shimmering softly. Egla Ash looked at his friend, seeing that the Elf's eyes had become quite serious as he turned to gaze at the Orc. Egla Ash felt a wave of fear come over him. All the Elves looked at him, their bright eyes not filled with merriment, but with solemnity. He swallowed, wondering if all their kindness and warmth had been nothing but a ruse to trick him into a false sense of security. Not all of them had accepted him kindly, but he thought that many of them had. He had been wrong. His mind filled with all he had done to harm Elves and what he had inflicted on Legolas himself. He looked to him once more, but Legolas merely stared at him, blue eyes unreadable.  
  
"Egla Ash, approach," Thranduil said, his voice filled with authority.  
  
They are going to kill me, he thought sadly. I will pay for what I have done. He lowered his head and moved forward to his fate.  
  
Thranduil's eyes met those of his youngest son as the Orc stood before the king, eyes lowered. Thranduil nodded at him. Legolas moved forward to stand behind the Orc who was shaking slightly. Lindir and Tavor joined him.  
  
"Egla Ash," Thranduil began. "As ruler of Greenwood the Great it is in my power to punish and reward as I see fit. On this day you have been brought before me to receive what is in my power to give. Look at me, Egla Ash."  
  
The Orc forced his eyes to the king's stern face. He could sense Legolas behind him, his bright presence as intense as starlight. Egla Ash watched as Nestadren came forward and handed a beautiful bow to the king. The Orc drew a breath. They were going to shoot him, he was certain of it. He only hoped that it would not be Legolas that drew the string and loosed the arrow. The black arrow of death, he thought miserably. It is what I deserve.  
  
"Egla Ash you have proven yourself to be a true friend of Mirkwood."  
  
The Orc's eyes flew up, his mouth opening.  
  
"And as such we make you a warrior of Mirkwood." Thranduil held out the bow to him, a true smile on his lips. "Take up your weapons in defense of your home and friends, my warrior."  
  
As the Elves began to laugh in delight and clap their hands, Egla Ash reached for the bow. As he did so, Legolas, Lindir, and Tavor deftly loosed the Orc's black hair from the silver clasp and quickly plaited it into the three warrior braids. Egla Ash was stunned. He stood with his mouth still hanging open in surprise. A cheer went up, raising to the tops of the trees and echoing in the shade beneath them. Legolas was laughing with delight and pulled the Orc into another embrace.  
  
"Welcome, brother warrior." He greeted him, smiling in pleasure at the look on the Orc's face. Tavor and Lindir greeted him also, Lindir bestowing another hug on him.  
  
"There is one more here that I wish to honor," Thranduil continued, glancing at Lindir who grinned like a child. "Meneliell, please come forward."  
  
The Elven maid gasped and reddened. Lindir grasped her hand and led her to the king. Thranduil smiled down into her sweet face and gently cupped her chin.  
  
"Meneliell has proven herself a warrior of Mirkwood also. And we bestow upon her the bow of a warrior."  
  
Tavor handed the bow to the young girl, who held it with shaking hands, so stunned she was.  
  
"She also may wear the warriors' braids. Or not. Since she is so fair, she may choose for herself."  
  
More cheering and laughter filled the glade. Times of true happiness were not frequent in Mirkwood since the evil things seemed to multiply with each passing year. And the Elves celebrated with great vigor and joy that night. Wine flowed freely, laughter was uninhibited and childlike. There was singing and dancing and Meneliell and Egla Ash were encouraged to show their skill with the bow.  
  
As the sky filled with more and more Elbereth's beloved stars Lindir coaxed Meneliell away from the others.  
  
"I have never made love to a warrior before," he whispered against her neck.  
  
She giggled, allowing him to braid her shorn auburn locks.  
  
"Come then, nin melethron. I will show you how a female warrior of Mirkwood makes love!" She laughed gaily and darted into the trees, Lindir only steps behind her, a grin on his face.  
  
Egla Ash was the happiest he had ever been. Most of the Elves of Mirkwood had accepted him, though it had not been easy. But they had all heard what he had done to help the others and how he had risked his own life to free them. They had encouraged him to sing some of his songs, which he did hesitantly at first then, with all the encouragement around him, more boldly. Legolas was never far from his side and they even sang a duet, which brought a loud round of cheering from the Elves. It was a night that he would never forget.  
  
Later, as the first rays of the sun lit the morning sky Legolas joined his father who was standing gazing toward the southeast. They stood quietly side-by-side. Some of the Elves had sought their beds, thought many had fallen asleep on the grass or perched in the trees. The celebration had been something that all had needed, especially those who had lost loved ones. Life needed to be celebrated whenever possible. Thranduil turned to smile at his youngest son.  
  
"I am so glad that you are well," he said, feeling that any words were inadequate to express what he felt.  
  
Legolas smiled at him and moved easily into his embrace.  
  
"Thank you for making Egla Ash feel accepted," he said, still held against his father.  
  
Thranduil laughed and released him.  
  
"Well.You had better listen well to what I am going to say for I will never repeat it." The Elf king took a deep breath and slowly released it. "I misjudged him. I was. wrong."  
  
Legolas gaped at him.  
  
"I said that I would not repeat it, little Greenleaf," Thranduil said, smiling merrily. "And I will not. So close your mouth. That is most unbecoming."  
  
Legolas grinned and was immediately pulled back into his father's arms.  
  
"Never again will I loose you," Thranduil whispered fervently. "Never."  
  
Legolas stood in his embrace, a feeling of great contentment and love swelling within him.  
  
Thranduil ended the hug, but draped his arm about his son's shoulders and together they watched the sun rise in splendor on a new day.  
  
  
  
*Note - This is not the last chapter there is one more coming. I need to set things in motion for the continuation and no, I have not forgotten Smeagol. I apologize if that was too sappy, but I wanted some happiness here.  
  
Response to Reviewers JastaElf - Glad I made you cry! You know why. Salak is so happy that you have joined her class. You guys are the greatest dancers ever!! By the by Egla Ash does not know how old he is. Sorry. He's never celebrated a birthday, poor thing! I hope that you don't mind about me borrowing the warrior braids thingy. Thanks! Lithia - Sorry to hear about your computer. That's rough. Glad you got it straightened out. I did miss you and am very glad you're back and still loving it!! AJ Matthews - Yeah, a cliffie last time around. I just had to do it one last time. And well, sorry, Aragorn will not be back until the next story.  
  
Irena - We should all believe in faeries, so I am very glad that you do!!  
  
alliwantisanelfforchristmas - Egla Ash is singing his heart out! Great dance!! Salak seems very proud of you and so are Egla Ash and I!! long under tree - I'm glad that you found that last chapter pleasant. I am also glad that you enjoyed the Elvish (haha). Just one thing, you update soon yourself!! The only Beta reader I have is my little old self, and the last chapter proved that you can do it!!  
  
Jan - Thanks for all the compliments. I truly appreciate them. And it is really hard to be original since we are all dancing about the same Tolkien story circle, so I really appreciate your comment. And Rivendell is coming up in the next story (great minds think alike!!)  
  
Horus - Thanks for saying that the last chapter was great, because I am not always certain how they come out. Tell Ardeth I said 'Hi!'!!  
  
Salak - Hugs from the author and Egla Ash (he enjoys them a lot!!) You're a wonderful teacher (obviously!!) with wonderful students!! (Standing ovation to you all!!) Keep dancing, nin mellon! 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - not revised  
  
Cerveth 3018 [July]  
  
"Seek for the Sword that was broken:  
  
In Imladris it dwells;  
  
There shall be counsels taken  
  
Stronger than Morgul-spells.  
  
There shall be shown a token  
  
That Doom is near at hand,  
  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,  
  
And the Halfling forth shall stand."  
  
  
  
Boromir awoke with a start, the dream lingering in his mind: The eastern sky had been dark and roiling with black clouds, crashes of thunder sounding, but in the western sky a faint light still shone.  
  
"Seek for the Sword that was broken."  
  
A clear voice rang out the prophetic words. What could they mean?  
  
More perplexing still, his brother Faramir had told him of this same dream just before the Enemy's assault on Osgiliath.  
  
Imladris.Where was that? Neither he nor his brother knew.  
  
He sighed and shoved the covers back. He crossed the room, his bare feet chilling as he stepped from the thick rug onto the bare stone floor. He stood gazing out his window toward the north. Fifty miles away was the ship-shaped island of Cair Andros. The Anduin split around it, breaking into foaming water at its prow. Beyond that lay the Dead Marshes and Emyn Muil. The great Falls of Rauros spilled from the hill country there. Further west and north was the forest of Fangorn and beyond that was Lorien, abode of the witch queen. If one traveled east from there across the river you would find the forest of Mirkwood, haunted and darkened by the evil that dwelt there.  
  
Boromir knew all the lands, but he did not know Imladris. He shook his head, leaning against the cold stone sill.  
  
There was a quiet knock at his door. He straightened and moved to pull on a robe.  
  
"Come."  
  
The door opened and Faramir entered.  
  
"Boromir? Are you up?"  
  
"You can see that I am, brother. Is something wrong?"  
  
"I need to speak with you," the younger man said, closing the door and crossed the room. The two sons of Denethor resembled one another greatly, though it was easy to see that Faramir was the younger. His face did not hold as much of the weariness and care that his brother's did. "I had the dream again last night. You know, the one -"  
  
"Aye. I dreamt it as well." Boromir passed a hand through his tousled dark blonde hair and moved to stand at the window once more.  
  
"Really? What do you think it means?" Faramir joined his brother, looking hopefully over at him.  
  
Boromir shook his head.  
  
"I know not." He laughed slightly. "I don't even know where - or what - Imladris may be."  
  
The two brother stood side-by-side gazing northward.  
  
"Our father might know," Faramir said quietly, then glanced at Boromir. They hadn't wished to burden the Steward of Gondor with dreams since he was weighed down with too many cares already.  
  
Boromir sighed, hesitating. But then he nodded.  
  
"Aye, if anyone would know, it would be he."  
  
Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, was wise in the lore of Middle Earth. He was a very learned man and it was no wonder that the libraries of Gondor were famous. Knowledge was a passion that had grasped him in earliest youth. But when his two sons came to him, all he would tell them was that Imladris was the ancient name of a far away northern dale where Elrond Half-Elven lived, the greatest of all lore-masters.  
  
Faramir immediately wished to leave to seek in the north for Imladris and the Sword that was broken. But Boromir stopped him, grasping the younger man's arm.  
  
"Nay, Faramir. I shall undertake this journey. The way will be dark and many unknown things may befall on the way."  
  
"Boromir, I am no longer a child to be ordered about by you! I-"  
  
"Silence! Both of you are behaving as children."  
  
Both young men turned to see their father, his face grim and set.  
  
"You cannot go, Boromir," he said, his eyes dark. "You are my heir and cannot go off in search of what may not be found. It is foolishness."  
  
"Then I will go!" Faramir declared, the desire for adventure and answers bright in his grey eyes.  
  
"No. I will go," Boromir insisted. "This dream has come to us both, so one of us must seek Imladris to discover its meaning." He said, looking at his father. "And," He turned to Faramir, a stubborn glint in his eyes. "I will be the one to go."  
  
So it was decided, much to Faramir's consternation and Denethor's dislike, though he could deny Boromir nothing. Boromir would seek for the elusive Imladris and the Sword that was broken. Early on the morning of the fourth day of Cerveth [July] he rode away from Minas Tirith, his back straight, and his heart stout. Slung across his back was a round Gondorian shield and about his neck hung the Horn of Gondor. He would find Imladris, of this he was certain. After all he was the son of Denethor II and heir to the Stewardship of the greatest city on Middle Earth. His heart was light as he rode away from the White City, adventure shining in his eyes.  
  
  
  
Less than one week after Boromir set out on his quest for Imladris, Gandalf embarked on a quest of his own. He rode with all speed to Orthanc, home to the head of his Order, Saruman the White. Saruman had met him as he arrived and together they had walked in the beauty that surrounded the tower. The bushes were flowering, filling the air with their elusive scent. Tall, stately trees rose to greet the sky. But then to the Wizard's horror he learned that Saruman had betrayed them, wanting the Ring for himself. It ended in a Wizards' duel that Gandalf could not hope to win. And so he was imprisoned alone on the pinnacle of Orthanc, where Saruman went to watch the stars. The only way down was a stair of many thousand steps. And Gandalf watched as the beauty below him was laid waste, great pits and forges marred the landscape once so wondrous. Orcs and wolves filled the force that Saruman was building, rivaling Sauron's own. And Gandalf stood alone on an island in the clouds with no hope of escape.  
  
  
  
Urui 3018 [August]  
  
  
  
  
  
Egla Ash had been integrated into the Elven society of Mirkwood. They had even renamed him Elu Heneb, Blue Eyed, at a private ceremony held by the warriors. He lived as he had once at Gael Dor, but spent much of his time in the company of the Elves. He had shed his black Orc garments for those made for him by Meneliell herself. They resembled the clothing worn by the warriors of Thranduil: mossy greens and browns to help him hide in the trees, a hooded cloak of shadowy green, clasped with his brooch. He joined the hunting parties as they would comb the woods for the strange little creature that the Orcs had wanted so badly. But they soon lost all sign of him. The trail had led them mostly west, but then it turned south. They followed it for a time, but as they explored into the southern reaches of Mirkwood and the trees became black and grotesque, and the spiders threatened, they halted. They were too near to the vile tower of Dol Guldur.  
  
Egla Ash, he still didn't think of himself as Elu Heneb, glanced over at Legolas, who turned to meet his eyes.  
  
"We go no further," Legolas told the others, who were relieved to hear this statement. "If he has gone to Dol Guldur then we will never recover him."  
  
The others turned gladly away from that evil place, eager to return home, though not happy about their failure to keep Mithrandir's creature safe for him. Legolas turned to go also, he had no wish to look on that black edifice again, but Egla Ash hesitated and moved toward a break in the trees. Legolas motioned for the others to go on and he turned to join his friend.  
  
The Orc stood beneath a twisted tree, his eyes on the bleak, broken landscape before him.  
  
"I was born to the darkness there," he said quietly. He shook his head. "I am so sorry, Legolas Elvellon. There are many things that I wish to change. But I cannot."  
  
Legolas moved to stand behind the Orc, looking at the Necromancer's fortress, remembering all to well the night that Egla Ash had disappeared inside it.  
  
"There are things that I wish I could change, too, nin mellon. But as someone once told me, 'We cannot always make things come out the way we would have them.'" He laid a hand on the Orc's shoulder. "Let us leave this place forever. We will not turn back to the dark times. We will enjoy what we have now and what will be ours in the future. Come away."  
  
Egla Ash gently touched the slim hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Yes. We will look ahead," he said after a moment. Then he turned slowly and followed Legolas away from the horror of his past.  
  
  
  
Smeagol continued on his westward trek, continuing to avoid both the servants of Sauron that hunted for him and the Elves of Mirkwood who also sought him. He spent his days in hiding, running when he had to, cursing the Yellow Face. The nights he spent traveling, catching small animals and birds for his food. He took to the trees often, knowing that he would be harder to track that way. He slept very little for the precious' call was so great. It was like a fire burning in his mind, devouring his soul completely now that he was away from the Elves and he thought of nothing else. Only occasionally did he remember his starry Elf as he would sit devouring his food, glancing at the night sky overhead. He would recall the kind words and laughter, the gentle touch of a soft hand, but only for a time as the precious drove him ever onwards. He turned south knowing that the Elves would not pursue very far in that direction.  
  
After a time he turned west once more and fled through the open spaces, crossed the river and eventually came to the Misty Mountains and there he discovered the Eastern entrance to the great Dwarf kingdom of Moria. He traversed its dark halls, eluding the many evils that dwelt there, making his way to the Western entrance only to find his way blocked. So he sat in the dark brooding and plotting. Always waiting for the day when the precious would be his again.  
  
  
  
Thranduil met the last party of hunters as they returned. He could see the defeat on their faces, but relief as well. Legolas moved to him, he bent his head pressing his right hand over his heart.  
  
"We have failed," he said quietly. "The tracks led west for some time, but then they turned south." He raised his head. "They led too near to Dol Guldur. We did not go any further."  
  
Thranduil nodded. They had done everything that they could. They would not continue the hunt. Not when it lead there.  
  
"It is as I feared then," Thranduil said quietly. "That wretched creature was too far gone. Mithrandir will not be pleased that he has fled. We have failed him."  
  
Legolas stood silently for a time.  
  
"We.we need to tell him," he murmured at last. "It has been some time since his last visit."  
  
Thranduil nodded, his green eyes distant.  
  
"Yes. He needs to be told. I will send scouts out to search for news of him. Perhaps he can be found quickly."  
  
"Aragorn will not be pleased either. I wonder where he is." Legolas yearned to tell the Ranger of all that that had befallen since he had last come to Mirkwood.  
  
"Wizards and Dunadain keep their own counsel, my son." Thranduil smiled. "They could be anywhere."  
  
  
  
Before Thranduil could learn of the whereabouts of the Istari a summons came from Rivendell. A messenger had ridden up to the Wood King's Hall and dismounted. He was ushered into Thranduil's presence and bowed gracefully.  
  
"Who is that?" Egla Ash asked, peering from behind Legolas as they stood in the next room, trying not to be seen. Word had spread that a messanger in the colors of Rivendell had arrived bearing an urgent message.  
  
"He has been sent by Lord Elrond of Imladris," Legolas answered, watching the Elf clad in deep maroon and lavender riding leathers.  
  
"Imladris? Where is that?"  
  
"West of here, across the Misty Mountains. It is also called Rivendell."  
  
"Have you been there?"  
  
"No. Father and Lord Elrond don't often converse."  
  
The two leaned around the door, hoping they were not seen. They watched as the messanger spoke urgently with the king, who did not look pleased, then handed him a rolled parchment, sealed with the symbol of Rivendell, dark ribbons hanging from it.  
  
"It looks important," Egla Ash whispered.  
  
A dark expression came over Thranduil's face as he read the message written therein by Elrond himself.  
  
"Is this true? He is calling a Council?" He asked the Rivendell Elf.  
  
"Of course, my Lord Thranduil." The messenger said, his face showing that he was offended that a Wood Elf should question the veracity of a letter from Lord Elrond.  
  
Thranduil frowned and turned away reading the contents of the letter again.  
  
"I need an answer, my Lord Thranduil," the messenger said, trying to curb his impatience.  
  
Thranduil sighed. Elrond would not have called them to a meeting in his realm unless something of great import was happening. He wondered what it could be.  
  
"Very well. I will send representatives to Rivendell."  
  
"Very good. I shall inform my Lord." He bowed once more and hurried from the Hall.  
  
Thranduil sighed. He felt old in that moment. The time of the Elves was indeed waning and he was growing weary. His realm had been constantly threatened, so many had died trying to preserve their small corner of it. And now something else was threatening. He knew that much. He felt so old.  
  
"Father?"  
  
He looked up to see Legolas and Egla Ash staring at him in concern.  
  
He hesitated not wanting to burden them with this, but then he changed his mind. Legolas was not a child to be shielded and cosseted. He held out the paper. Legolas moved to take it. He read it swiftly, surprise and foreboding coming over him. Egla Ash stood at his shoulder, slowly deciphering the words.  
  
"Who will you send?" Legolas asked, handing it to the Orc.  
  
"I know not. The Council is set for the twenty-fifth of Narbeleth [October]. It must be undertaken soon. There is much to do before they are to set out."  
  
Legolas tried to keep the excitement from his eyes, but they sparkled like sapphires in the sun and Thranduil looked up at him, a scowl forming on his face.  
  
"No, Legolas. I am not sending you."  
  
"Why not?" Legolas looked to the Orc for support. Egla Ash glanced from the Elf king to his son. He shrugged. He knew better than to get involved. He pretended to read the letter again. "You must send my brothers or myself. Lord Elrond will think it an insult if you do not."  
  
"Legolas, I do not need you to teach me statecraft. I know that one of my sons must go. And I also know that I do not care to send you."  
  
"Why not? You don't think I could represent our people?"  
  
"It is not that." Thranduil turned anguished eyes to his youngest. "I have nearly lost you twice. I do not wish to live through that again."  
  
Legolas glanced at the floor, his shoulders slumping.  
  
"Father, you agreed to let me go on the hunt for Smeagol. How could this be any more dangerous? Imladris is a place of safety. I am sure Lord Elrond would not care to risk your ire by having something untoward befall your son."  
  
Thranduil knew that he was caught. He truly did not want Legolas to leave Mirkwood. He wanted him ever near, but he also knew that what the younger Elf had said was true. He could see the yearning in his youngest child's eyes, so blue like his mother's. He sighed.  
  
"Very well, little Greenleaf. You shall go to Imladris."  
  
Legolas smiled.  
  
"Thank you, Father. I appreciate your confidence in me. And it won't be long before I am home again bearing tidings."  
  
"Yes. I do have confidence in you, else you would not be going. Whilst you are there though you must tell what has befallen with Mithrandir's creature. Perhaps Mithrandir himself will be there. If this meeting is as urgent as it seems then undoubtedly he will be. I must think of whom I shall send with you. And you will need to prepare yourself for the journey."  
  
Thranduil took the parchment from Egla Ash who was staring at Legolas in dismay.  
  
"You are leaving, Legolas Elvellon?"  
  
Legolas still smiling turned to him, but seeing that the Orc was truly distressed by this, turned to his father. He couldn't leave Egla Ash now. Not after all they had been through.  
  
"Father?"  
  
"Yes, Legolas?"  
  
"Would it.do you think.how would Lord Elrond feel if Egla Ash accompanied us to Imladris?"  
  
Thranduil turned to them in amazement, one brow shooting upward. Both sets of blue eyes were filled with pleas for his assent. How indeed, he thought turning away with a frown. An Orc in Elrond's beloved Imladris. But then a mischievous smile crept over his lips. And he laughed slightly. How indeed.  
  
"Why I think that he would be quite pleased to meet Elu Heneb I dare say he has never had a conversation with one such as he. Yes, Elu Heneb shall accompany you."  
  
Egla Ash nearly burst with happiness. To travel to Imladris where more Elves lived was more than he could have dreamed of. He was overwhelmed.  
  
"Thank you, Father," Legolas said, smiling at the Orc.  
  
"Thank you, your Majesty." Egla Ash bowed, his head spinning with excitement.  
  
Thranduil watched as the two left the room, chattering happily at one another. His smile widened.  
  
"Well, Elrond, my old friend," he said to the empty room, his green eyes sparkling puckishly. "I wonder how you will greet my representatives." He laughed merrily, imagining the expression of horror that would grace the Half-Elf's face when he saw the Orc. Indeed, he wished he could be there to see it himself. He rolled the parchment up and left, feeling rather lighter of heart and years younger than he had in some time.  
  
  
  
Response to Reviewers  
  
*I do not know where the numbers in front of the reviews came from. I didn't type them in. Believe me I looked at my Word file to be sure. Weird.  
  
AJ Matthews - Aragorn will be back very soon. I promise.  
  
Horus - I'm happy that you didn't think it was too sappy. Thanks a lot! Hearts to you!  
  
Lithia - I'm still loving your reviews!! Hearts to you, too!  
  
JastaElf - When I was writing about Legolas and Egla Ash looking at Dol Guldur, I was not thinking of my story as I wrote this. Wonder why!! I am using your idea about renaming Egla Ash. Elu Heneb was JastaElf's idea, guys! And as you know, so were the braids! Egla Ash, uh, Elu Heneb loves them!!  
  
Shinigamio - Thanks so much for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hearts to you!  
  
long under tree - I'm glad that you didn't think it was too sappy. And, yeah, it was a totally typical - see it coming a mile off - ending. But like you, it was just what I wanted to see. Don't let writer's block worry you, it'll pass. And I will be waiting.  
  
Note to Jan - Thanks so much for catching that BIG faux pas in this chapter. Thank you, nin mellon!! It has been fixed!! 


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